


Consent

by Hiisisynti (Hiisilija)



Series: Consent [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Lance, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lotor (Voltron), Bondage, Brainwashing, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Grooming, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Leith - Freeform, M/M, Manhandling, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining Lotor (Voltron), Porn With Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Tags Contain Spoilers, Torture, hunk - Freeform, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 65,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiisilija/pseuds/Hiisisynti
Summary: After fleeing from the Galra Empire, Lotor has no where to go but the Castle of Lions. He's locked up. He's monitored. He makes a deal.Thankfully, Lotor makes googly eyes enough at the Blue Paladin. No. The RED paladin, dressed in beautiful blue. He's all bronze skin and blue eyes and red hot blood; so much of everything Lotor needs right now.He's really only looking for a pastime. Really. Lotor has only selected the most beautiful specimen on the ship.He had no idea that loving Lance would cost both of them their freedom. He had no idea how much Lance would take from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know in the comments if there is any warnings you think I should post per chapter. Thanks!

**Lotor**

* * *

The Galra Empire was a cruel system run by greed. The top generals of Zarkon's army were driven by power, control... And Lust.

Lotor looked down on them. He had discovered a perfect way to survive a system crafted around want and need.

Lotor wanted and needed nothing. No banishment could take anything away, he had nothing to lose. No witch inside of Narti would stop him from killing, he had no friends. He taught his generals the same thing... And they betrayed him.

Good for them, that meant they would survive.

Lotor lost nothing when they betrayed him. He had broken all of his rules on his foolish journey for quintessence. For that comet.

He played right into Haggar's hands.

Never again.

He was back as his old self. Spending his days on the Castle of Lions, spending his nights elsewhere. He gave intel and advice, seeking friends nowhere.

Lotor was no longer a prince, so what power was he striving for?

There was another thing checked off his box. One less thing to tempt him.

As for lust... He'd been feeling that a lot. Maybe because he had felt the power of his title as well as the companionship of his generals, without them, he found himself fantasizing even more.

But he had always had a solution for that. Ever since Lotor was a Galran teenager, learning the ways of the Galra Empire, he didn't allow the female Galra to entice him on their quest for power. No, he'd find the nearest planet, inhabited by Galra or not, and he'd take what he wanted.

From men, women, both, neither, or anything else he'd become exposed to, it didn't matter. If they didn't have holes, they had mouths. If they didn't have mouths, they had hands.

And if none of the above was an option, they could feel pain. They could feel fear.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Lance**

* * *

Lance had been training hard on the training deck when he sensed a presence over his shoulder. His skin tingled and his neck hairs stood on end.

On instinct, he swung around, raising his Bayard in the form of a gun and blocking a sword.

Lotor stood above him, his eyes malicious.

"Wh—" Lotor attacked again before Lance could finish.

Lotor moved at a terrifying pace, Lance sidestepping and dodging as fast as he could.

Lotor wasn't trying to slap him around, he was trying to defeat him. He was trying to attack him.

"That's—enough!" Lance cried. "Lotor!"

Lance switched his hold on his Bayard, aiming to fire when Lotor knocked it out of his hands.

Lotor's sword hit Lance's ribs with the flat side. "You will never decide when a fight is enough!"

Lance stumbled, falling on the ground. Lotor put his sword away, climbing on top of Lance with deadly speed, keeping him pinned.

"Your enemy will," Lotor finished.

"I thought we weren't enemies," Lance mocked, then gasped when Lotor pressed down harder.

It was weird, Lotor was using his hips to keep Lance pinned, but there was something... Wrong. Something was off.

Before Lance could decide what that was, Lotor stood and offered his hand. Lance froze, his face flushed with embarrassment. He raised a trembling hand and accepted, trying to understand what had just happened.

"Always have your guard up," Lotor advised.

"I didn't even know you were in the room. I was training long-distance—"

"Don't make excuses, Lance. You are a fine sharpshooter, but what will happen when a Galra sneaks passed your guard? Will they take you as easily as I did?"

Lance didn't answer. His heart was still beating hard from fear and confusion. Lotor looked amused.

Lance pushed passed the Galra, walking quickly down the hall.

"I could train you," Lotor presented.

Lance had to restrain himself from scoffing. He didn't trust Lotor as far as he could throw him. With his tiny human arms and Lotor's Galra body, that wouldn't be more than two inches.

But their alliance with Lotor was tentative as it was. It didn't matter how much Lance trusted him, so he kept his mouth shut.

"You shouldn't plant your feet so far apart, you are not your Galra friend, you cannot move so quickly. And stay on your toes, I can see you are trying, but you fall back on your heels often."

Lance wanted to laugh. Was Lotor saying he should fire a gun on his toes? Lance knew he wasn't, but he had no interest in learning hand to hand combat from Lotor.

He thought about Keith, why Lotor had mentioned him, he didn't know, but they were passing his old room now. Lance had the sudden urge to lunge for it, lock the doors, or pound on them for help until someone came.

"And, perhaps the most important thing,"

Lance tensed, leaning left. His door was coming up soon. They passed Keith's, and Lance shouldn't have ignored his instincts, but he wouldn't again.

"Never let down your guard."

Lance lunged, his arms extended to his room. The door opened and he slipped inside, but so did half of Lotor. Lotor forced his way in and slammed his hand on the lock.

Lance balled up his fist and swung for Lotor's throat. Lotor caught his fist, sending a shock up his arm. Lance felt his body spin around without his permission. He landed with his stomach on the floor, his legs pressed together and displayed awkwardly to his side. Lance's cheek was uncomfortably pressed into the cold ground.

Lotor pinned his wrists above his head with one hand. His other hand was pressed against Lance's knees. And his waist... His waist was entertaining slight movements against Lance's ass.

"Always keep your guard up, or something terrible will happen, and you'll have to deal with the consequences," Lotor warned.

Lotor stood up then, unlocking the doors and striding out with poise, leaving a trembling, terrified Lance on the floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Keith**

* * *

Keith stepped off his ship to a welcoming group of four Paladins.

Pidge was the first to react, crying out his name and wrapping her arms around his neck. Everyone else followed.

Eventually, they backed off, allowing Keith space to breathe. Shiro was looking at him sadly, something Keith knew firsthand not to ask about in front of the Paladins. And Lance was gone...

"So, Lotor," Keith started, trying to get his mission out of the way so he could spend time with his friends.

Hunk rolled his eyes.

"Keith?" Allura asked. "I know this is tense, but can we please catch up before discussing this?"

Keith pinched his lips ."I—I want to. But the Blade needs to know what he's been—"

"Keith," Shiro announced. "Can I talk to you?"

Keith agreed instantly. Keith let Shiro drag him away and burst into questions the minute he was out of earshot.

"What's wrong? What did he do?"

Shiro shook his head

"This isn't about Lotor, it's about Lance," Shiro said. "He wants to talk to you."

"Then... Why isn't he here?"

Shiro cleared his throat. "He hasn't been himself. These past two days he's been on edge. The slightest thing stresses him out and he... He's mentioned you in passing, but I know he meant it as more than that. Can you... Can you please find out what's going on?"

Keith swallowed, almost sick with worry. Last time Lance had come to him for help, Keith had tried his best. He even thought, maybe, things between them would change. But then Keith left.

Lance was strong, but Keith wondered what he had abandoned him to endure.

Keith hadn't realized he'd left Shiro until he was in Lance's empty room. The bed sheets, which were usually neat and pressed, were rumpled and thrown in the corner.

Keith continued his search, worry pooling in his gut until it became dread. Why now?

With Lotor over... That couldn't be a coincidence.

Keith's breath caught when he found him. Lance was staring at the ceiling in the lounge area. Keith sat down on the opposite side of the circle, hoping not to scare him.

"I missed you at the welcoming party," Keith started.

"A party, huh? No wonder you missed me."

Lance kept his dead gaze at the ceiling.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Keith asked.

"What makes you think that?" Lance said in a monotone.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Keith?" Lance whispered. "Can I ask you a question?"

Keith smiled, trying not to laugh out loud. "Yes."

"Like, with the Blade," Lance flipped himself over, resting on his elbows and forearms. Keith thought he looked a little cute, but Lance looked so distraught Keith forced himself to look beyond it. "Are you ever afraid that you'll mess up, like, in combat?"

"Why? Did something happen?" Keith wondered.

Lance shook his head, "That's not what I asked."

Keith sighed. "I used to be terrified. But not anymore."

"What happened? What changed?" Lance asked.

"I became terrified, because, when you mess up, it's over, and sometimes people get hurt," Keith explained. "But being afraid of it... It was just going to make it more likely."

"So what did you do?" Lance begged.

"I... I trained. I learned to fight, for every scenario. The more capable I am, the more I can handle dangerous situations."

Lance stared at him, his face unreadable. "But, you have the Galra training for that."

Keith frowned. "Yeah, the blade is pretty good at stuff like this. Do—do you want to train? With them—with me?"

"No," Lance swung his feet around, standing up. Keith rose to meet him.

"What—Lance?" Keith asked timidly.

"I'll be okay," Lance walked to the door. "I'll just make a deal with the devil."


	4. Chapter 4

**Shiro**

* * *

Shiro couldn't believe the improvements Lance had made in his focus and fighting technique after his talk with Keith.

But after this mission, Shiro knew it wasn't something Keith could have done. A conversation doesn't improve your fighting skills, nor does it make you more... Savage.

Lance was detached in the battle today. He worked faster and more efficiently than ever. He no longer limited himself to long-range fighting.

Lance got up close, his gun in hand, and fought with grace.

Then, with that Galra soldier he'd defeated, his gun to his head, he paused.

There was no pausing in battles. In war, it was kill or be killed, and Lance had killed before.

Only this time, Lance stopped. Lance raised his gun, then ever so calmly, kicked the Galra soldier off the catwalk. Then he walked away.

Shiro prompted Lance one more time over their comms. He didn't answer. Shiro needed to talk to Keith.

In any other situation, Shiro would handle it himself, but Lance had specifically asked for Keith. Then he and Keith talked.

Shiro headed to the deck and contacted the Blade if Marmora.

Someone answered in their usual secretive nonsense, and Shiro asked for Keith. Keith responded, but not from their base. He spoke to Shiro in a whisper, audio only.

"Yes, I can talk now, but make it quick."

Shiro hesitated. "Keith, if you're on a mission, it can wait."

"Can it?" Keith wondered.

"Something's wrong with Lance."

Keith went silent. The Marmoran on the screen waited patiently and dutifully while the two continued their conversation.

"Lotor," Keith accused.

Shiro wanted to call him biased, ever since they made this arrangement, Keith, in particular, had hated Lotor. But Shiro thought, just maybe, he hated him for a reason. Keith had always followed his gut.

"What are you thinking?" Shiro asked.

"Lance said he was going to make a deal with the devil. He talked a lot about learning to fight. Does that match up with whatever situation made you contact me?" Keith hissed.

"Yes," Shiro's voice croaked.

"Keep them apart. Don't confront Lotor. I'm coming over."

"Keith—"

"I am coming."

Shiro sighed. "Fine."

Keith disconnected his comm. The Marmoran Shiro was on with asked if he'll need backup.

Shiro wanted to say no, but he wouldn't let Lotor play him. No matter what was happening, he was approaching thus with full caution. "We may have to apprehend him. If you could send some men, I'll get the Paladins ready."

The feed was cut, and Shiro went to find Pidge. She would definitely be working. He approached her in her largest workspace and spoke quietly.

"Pidge," He whispered.

Her head snapped up, but she read his face quickly.

"Get to the Green Lion. It's Lotor."

Pidge followed orders quickly.

"If you see Hunk and Allura say nothing. We're doing this quietly. The Blade is on their way."

She looked more scared now, but she nodded.

"And, Pidge?"

"What?"

"Tell me the second you see Lance."

"...Okay." Pidge broke out into a run to get to her hanger.

Shiro took deep breaths. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was breaking or damaging their alliance with Lotor, but he would take no chances.

He would not extend Lotor any courtesy or trust. He was a rat... And he was getting into Lance's head.

Pidge spoke to Shiro on their private channel. "Lance is headed to the training deck. I tried to talk to him, but he blew me off."

"Thanks, Pidge." Shiro ran. "I'll keep an eye on him. Will you let me know when you get to your lion?"

Pidge didn't respond.

"Pidge, tell me when you get to your lion."

The silence was driving Shiro's nerves up the wall. "Pidge, just answer me now."

She didn't.

Shiro ran faster. If he tried, he could trace the route Pidge takes to her Lion and find out what was wrong. But his gut told him to get to Lance.

It's what Keith would do. Keith didn't trust Lotor. As impulsive as he was, he showed a measure of control in situations like this. Only Keith knew beforehand Lotor was to blame... Shiro needed to think like Keith.

... Even if that meant leaving Pidge. In danger. Shiro was leaving her in danger.

He ran faster.

He made another gut decision and went to the observation box. He could see Lance chopping at a bot, training hard and fast. He was uncoordinated. He was messy.

He wasn't graceful.

Shiro called out one more time. "Pidge?"

She didn't respond.

But Shiro was where he was supposed to be. He knew that. Looking at the change in Lance now... He looked so angry. He looked distraught. He was lashing out at the drone on level one like his life depended on it. He cut them down, again and again, acting like it would keep him sane.

Shiro gripped the railing. He's missing something...

Right on time, Lotor walked in. "End training sequence."

Lance turned around after the half Galra's command. "What's for today?"

Shiro's entire body shivered, starting with his toes and ending with his head. Something was still missing.

"Draw by fire, as you put it."

Shiro thought he was imagining it, but he could see Lance shaking from all the way up on the observation deck.

"What happened to you today?" Lance asked.

Lotor drew his sword, swinging it slowly and elegantly, demonstrating his form.

Lance walked to the wall and picked one of his own. He began to mimic Lotor's movement's like he was a mirror.

"It's a good thing you're goofy footed," Lotor commented. "Otherwise, this wouldn't work."

Shiro noticed Lotor had ignored Lance's question.

"I'd like to get more done today, I don't want to end it so soon." Lance stopped swinging.

Lotor swung his sword quickly and deadly, speeding up, putting on a show. Lance stepped back.

Draw by fire...

Lotor lunged at Lance, swinging as he went. Lance raised his sword and blocked, focusing on his defense. "Your enemy will not allow you form. They will not spare you time to use tactics. Improvisation is a skill you must acquire."

Lance didn't respond. He couldn't, Lotor was moving too quickly.

Shiro wanted to tell Lotor to ease up. As a trainer, how was Lance supposed to learn if he couldn't evolve? Training like this... Lance was progressing with baby steps only.

But Shiro knew he was still missing a piece of this puzzle.

"Application," Lance grunted.

Lotor laughed. "Yes, yes, you apply your training to these circumstances, but I cannot teach you a fighting style. I will not. You will develop your own. The forms teach you to evolve it."

Lance ducked and rolled by Lotor's side, narrowly missing his blade, but successfully swiveling back to the middle of the room.

"Like that," Lotor mocked. "Did I teach you that?"

"No," Lance grunted again, still all on defense. "I have studied you and your style, I won't be able to do that with my enemy."

Lotor increased his intensity, whipping Lance in the side with the flat of his blade. "You will if you survive long enough."

Lance was getting hit from every angle now. Shiro gripped the railing... But he was still missing something.

"Put your guard back up!" Lotor barked. "Or the consequences will be on you! Every life taken, because of your failure!"

Shiro clenched his teeth. Could that be it? Was that the missing part? Lotor was filling Lance's head with crap about failure.

"Can you face the consequences?" Lotor asked.

Shiro could see the effect Lotor had on Lance. After he said that, Lance fell apart. His form crumbled, he became desperate, and his face turned red as spit and tears streamed down his cheeks and chin.

Lotor didn't stop, not even when he disarmed Lance. He kept beating on him and advancing. Lance held up his arms and covered his face as Lotor aimed high with his sword.

"You'll leave a mark!"

Lotor ceased. He raised his blade and touched the tip to the top of Lance's right cheekbone. "Yield."

Lance started to shake, he closed his eyes. "No,"

Lotor cut, quick and shallow. Lance dropped to his knees, clutching his face. Shiro touched his scar in sympathy. His hand burned hot, every part of Shiro wanted to end this, but his gut froze him in place.

He was still missing something.

"You think you can stop this?" Lotor yelled. He kicked Lance backward, discarding his sword. "You think you can avoid the consequences? Yield! Accept the consequences!"

Lance tried dragging himself away, sobbing. "No!"

Lotor kicked his ribcage, Lance grunting even through his armor. Lotor changed his stance, switching from kicking to hitting, even clawing at Lance's arm.

"Don't make me do it like this!" Lotor demanded. "Admit defeat! Face the repercussions!"

Lance was sobbing now, full-on crying. "No, please."

"Yield!" Lotor jumped on Lance, literally. Lotor grabbed his wrist and jerked him violently, demanding that he comply and submit to Lotor's wishes.

Lotor didn't stop for some time. Finally, Lance choked out a word.

"What?" Lotor asked.

"I yield!" Lance spit out angrily.

Lotor touched his face, running his thumb under the cut on Lance's cheek. The cut ran from the top of his cheekbone, right by his hairline, and crossed it barely stopping before the lips.

"What was your plan, Lance? You are never going to win. You must learn when to leave the battlefield. Get your information, study my form, if you wish, then you must yield. You must accept the consequences."

Lance opened his mouth, the same look in his eyes before he said something to make the other Paladins groan, but then he stopped, his jaw quivering.

"Nothing to say this time? You're learning."

Lance wiped his cheek, smearing blood and tears on the back of his hand. "I don't want to."

Lotor paused. "We never want to, there is never a 'just this once' where punishment can be avoided. We hold our heads high, and accept the consequences."

Shiro's heart seized as he realized he'd mouthed the last couple words along with Lotor. Not because he believed him, but because he realized, those were Lotor's chosen words.

He could get Lance to submit with those words. And, as Shiro looked at the scar on his face, he saw Sendak standing over him—placing a muzzle over his mouth, making it tighter and tighter as Shiro misbehaved. And Shiro began to understand what Lotor wanted Lance to submit to.

Shiro froze as he watched what happened next. Lotor grabbed Lance's legs, spinning him around and onto his back. Lance cringed. "You don't have to."

Lotor grabbed his legs tighter. He pressed them against Lance's chest, then slung them over his arms, linking them by the elbow and knee. Lotor then grabbed Lance's wrists, pinning them to the floor by his waist. Shiro snapped out of his trance when he saw Lotor grind his hips, rutting into Lance's clothed bottom.

No, Shiro thought. No, not him.

Shiro sprinted down the stairs, into the training room, knowing fully well that Lotor was in the center, and Shiro wouldn't get the drop on him.

"Pidge, answer now. Pidge. Pidge, it's worse than I thought. Pidge?"

Shiro busted out into the training room, hand blazing, horrified of the scene in front of him. Lance's face was cast to the side, blood dripping onto the floor, tears in his eyes. He had gone limp under Lotor's hold, the prince's face buried in his neck, grunting loudly and crudely.

Shiro screamed out. "Lotor!"

Lotor took his head out of Lance's neck. He looked hazy with desire, his pupils blown wide open. Lotor then appeared to comprehend the situation.

"Subtlety was always my strong suit, so I'm going to chalk this up to bad timing."

Shiro seethed through his teeth. "Then what did you do to Pidge?"

Lotor grinned. "Ah, the little Green Lion, running just a little too fast."

"Is she alive?"

Lotor smiled, "Of course, the Green Lion wouldn't trust me if I had killed her."

Lotor released Lance's wrists and the young Paladin's legs flopped to the floor. Lance took a deep breath, curling onto his side with his legs to his chest, hugging his cracked and/or broken ribs.

"It's gonna be okay Lance," Shiro said.

"No, sweet Sharpshooter," Lotor drew a knife, his breath still heavy and his face faintly indigo from molesting Lance. "It won't. It never is—"

"Enough! You're done putting things in his head." Shiro charged.

Lotor dodged every swing, not allowing Shiro to even touch him. "Yield, soldier."

"No more games, Lotor," Shiro hissed. "You're finished."

Lotor huffed. "You don't see what I see when I look at you. You will stand down, soldier."

"Never."


	5. Chapter 5

**Lance**

* * *

Lance couldn't remember what had happened. He didn't know if it was fear or pain that made him forget... Maybe he passed out, but he awoke on a ship.

Thankfully, it was a ship he recognized. Green lights and walls greeted Lance when he opened his eyes. For a moment, he felt safe.

Always have your guard up... That's what Lotor taught him. It didn't matter where Lance was on the castle, Lotor would find him. Lotor would then defeat him, forcing a humiliating punishment that made Lance feel...

Lance shivered. Lotor had destroyed everything. Lotor made Lance afraid of his own home. Lance's bond with red was weaker and he knew why, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Lotor was always there.

Lance wiped a tear away. Why was he so terrified? Lotor never even raped him. Lotor would just grab him and kiss his skin, grinding into Lance with everything he had and until he came with a cry that made Lance feel sick.

Lance should've fought back.

And he would from now on. Lotor got in his head. But see Shiro on the training deck... Telling him it was going to be okay... Lance had never felt more comforted.

He wasn't going to give Lotor that power over him again. Lance wasn't going to feel weak anymore. He wasn't going to be used.

Unfortunately, his gut was still crawling. Lance's instincts were screaming at him to run, but he was safe. How could he run? He won't let Lotor make him feel afraid of home.

Lance stood, his body screaming. Lotor really went at him this time...

Lance made his way to the cockpit, a hand on the wall. "Pidge?"

It wasn't Pidge. That mop of white hair couldn't be mistaken for anyone but Lotor. And he was piloting the Green Lion.

Lance's entire body seized, and he remembered why he was so afraid. How could he fight back, when Lotor was so much stronger than him?

Lotor said it himself, know when to leave the battlefield and deal with the consequences. Lance would have to if he was going to live. If he wanted Lotor to stop beating on him...

"Good morning, sweet Sharpshooter." Lotor rose.

Lance fled, his ribcage screaming for help. Lotor must've cracked a rib.

Lance rounded a corner, knowing exactly where he was going. He was still dressed up in his blue Paladin armor, but he needed a helmet. He'd put on an entire Green suit if he had to. He just needed to—

"Ah!" Lance cried out as Lotor pinned him to the floor.

"You have already lost this battle, young Paladin. Yield."

Lance shook under Lotor's grasp. He didn't respond.

"Yield, Lance." Lotor started to grind into him from behind.

Lance was pressed face down into the floor, powerless to stop it.

"Lotor—"

"Yield, Lance, I don't want to hurt you."

Lance felt a tear slip down his cheek. "You don't have to, you bastard!"

Lotor moved one of his hands to Lance's neck, flipping him onto his back. Lance struggled, but Lotor pressed his hand to Lance's ribcage, stopping his resistance.

"I'm done playing your game! I'm done listening to your lies!" Lance declared, proud and terrified.

Lotor shook his head. "Humans are so much more... Interesting than I thought they'd be."

"Fuck you." Lance kicked at him.

Lotor licked his lip. "You know..."

Lotor stood up, releasing Lance and throwing something at him. Lance was trying to sit up, but metal cuffs wrapped around his wrists. Lotor snapped his fingers and the metal connected. Lotor threw two more at his ankles.

The much taller Galra leaned over him and readjusted his arms so his wrists were behind his back.

"You have nowhere to go," Lance said. "Turn back, I'll talk to Shiro. We'll tell no one."

Lotor laughed. "Let me tell you a secret, Sweet Sharpshooter: I can sense lies."

"Don't try to intimidate me," Lance barked.

Lotor knelt down and started rubbing Lance's legs, massaging the inside of his upper thighs. The act made Lance gag, but he kept that hidden.

"I'm not. My father is a Galra. My mother: an Altean Alchemist. I have trained with the druids to develop the talents gifted to me at birth."

Lance gasped as Lotor flipped him on his stomach, touching his lower back.

"I cannot do magic, but I have gifts that haven't been seen since before the ancients."

"Is that an expression?" Lance asked, his good cheek pressed into the ground, the other leaking a small trickle of blood.

Lotor didn't respond.

"I can sense lies. Can I tell you something interesting about humans? You recognize submission is your only way out of this situation. You understand your best chance is me taking you back to the Castle of Lions with a promise to your body... Yet, somehow," Lotor cut a large rip in Lance's sturdy Paladin fabric. How? Lance didn't know. "You won't actually do it."

"Ahh!" Lance screamed as Lotor plunged in his large, Galra middle finger passed his rim, down to the knuckle.

Lance felt a tear race down his cheek. How could it hurt so much? Fingers were thin and small. Lotor might be proportionally larger, in his girth, length, and height—but how in the name of hell did it hurt so damn much?

Why did it hurt?

Lotor moaned, "Fuck! Move, Lance. Squirm on my finger. Writhe on the ground until my hand is slick with juices."

Lance took deep breaths, trying to come down from the shock and pain.

"No, no," Lance pleaded with very real fear. But he lied anyway, it was what you were supposed to do, right? Give them what they want? "I will do it, I'm yours. You—you can fuck me on the training deck. I'm all yours—ahh!"

"I know you're lying, Lance. Now, fuck yourself on my finger. Do whatever it takes to like it—to moan from it."

"I'm not lying!" Lance cried as Lotor pressed his finger against Lance's prostate.

Lotor laughed. If he was telling the truth, and Lance suspected he was, he knew that he was lying.

"Then give yourself to me."

"Okay! We'll—we'll just fly back to the Cas—ahh!"

Lotor rammed his finger in and out, flexing Lance's ring painfully. "You're starting to get wet."

"It—" Lance choked. "It's blood!"

Lotor hummed. "Are you that sensitive? Are you that... tight?"

Lance coughed. "I'm not a girl! I—I don't get... wet."

Lotor ripped his finger out, making Lance scream.

"No matter how good it feels?" Lotor sounded disappointed.

"No, it won't happen. You're supposed to..." Lance paused.

Did he really want to give Lotor instructions? Did he even want Lotor knowing that this was an aspect of life that Lance knew about?

Another voice in Lance's head piped up: Do you really want him to take you dry?

Lance cried. "You're supposed to add it."

Lotor made a ticking sound with his head. "As pretty as you would be with my cock in your ass—I've always preferred it wet. And the warmth that comes with it..."

Lotor flipped Lance over, causing him to gasp at the feeling of landing on his cuffed wrists.

Lotor pinched his cheeks together. Lance clenched his teeth on instinct, but Lotor was able to pry his mouth open very quickly.

Lance glanced down—avoiding those terrifying eyes—and was shocked by the sight in front of him. He didn't know when Lotor had brought out his cock, but it stood to attention in front of him. Lance didn't have time to take in the size, but he looked long enough to comprehend that it was fleshier than he thought it would be... Almost like a human's.

Or an Alteans, Lance guessed.

Lotor grabbed Lance's face forcefully, giving him no choice but to look at him, their faces not two inches away from each other. Lance's cut cheek ached.

"If I gave my cock to that warm mouth of yours... Would you bite?" Lotor asked huskily.

Lance froze. Could he even bite? He wouldn't be able to bite it off, no. But how much would it hurt?

"'Course not," Lance smirked.

Lotor's face turned stoic. "Will you always lie?"

Lance didn't respond, but it was hard to maintain dignity with his ass out in the air, his face still locked in by Lotor's hands.

Lotor dropped him. Lance fell back on the ground and he closed his eyes, taking just one moment of peace.

Lotor spun him back around, placing his cheek back on the ground. This time, rather than lying flat on the ground, he forced him to support his ass in the air.

Lance could already feel the air on his entrance... Maybe it would hurt less like this, his legs open and unclenched.

Lotor grabbed his cuffed hands, using them to assert more control over Lance.

"Now, let's see if this un-lubricating hole can feel pleasure."

Lance took a deep breath, entertaining the possibility that if he told Lotor that it wouldn't—not dry or with a member so large—he felt something strong, flexible, and large push in.

Lance gasped, his hips bucking back against Lotor's face against his will. Lotor's tongue massaged his rim, softly opening it up and moving in deeper at each opportunity. Lotor's tongue was so thick that Lance's constant clenching and unclenching against his will had nearly no effect.

Lotor could tell that the prince was feeling smug about this, but couldn't express it. Lance clamped his mouth shut, down-grading his moans into whimpers, spurring Lotor on. His tongue hit all of the right places, but only barely.

Lance just needed him to go a little further, then he would be a complete mess, but Lotor stayed just out of range, causing the young Paladin to writhe under his touch.

Lotor constantly pulled his tongue out, his saliva making the air seem cold, only to come back with his tongue rewetted.

Lance closed his eyes. Somehow, it felt terrible that he was still in full Paladin gear. He was wearing his armor. Lotor just sliced it open and took him, too impatient to remove his clothes. It was bulky and uncomfortable, something Lance was thankful for with great shame as he realized he was sporting an erection.

Lance closed his eyes. He'd yielded to Lotor, there was nothing he could do. He fell into the dark and thought of anything to mask what was happening to him. He tried to recall his most intimate dreams, featuring the hotheaded Paladin, but couldn't grasp on. The pool of dread and fear in his gut was too strong to associate with Keith.

Lance got a hold of himself soon, his shame giving him strength. He did not yield to Lotor. Lotor pinned him down and cuffed him, forced his in every way imaginable.

Lance was no longer on the training deck, his face burning from defeat and fear that the other Paladins would walk in and see Lotor using his body.

Lance lost no fight—and no lost fight warranted this.

Lance started to struggle with everything he had. He could sense Lotor's annoyance with every move of his body that wasn't drawn from pleasure. Jesus, Lotor had some moves... Lance couldn't imagine what it would feel like if he'd wanted it.

This was being forced on him.

The comparison made him a little more hot-and-bothered than earlier. He froze.

Lotor took this as a sign of submission. Lance closed his eyes and focused. He pictured the Blue Lion in his head, talking to him for the first time. Then he pictured the Red Lion. They were so unbelievably different, Lance knew better than to reach out to Green with his current tactics.

Lance pressed his face further into the floor, listening for Green. Trying to find Green.

All he got, was the sudden fear that Lotor could feel Lance through Green.

Lotor came out of his hole, gasping for air. "Oh, you humans—no, Lance. You are full of wonderful tastes. Your lips, your neck... Oh,"

Lance shivered as Lotor came down from his apparent high.

"I could feel you grasping my tongue. Your ass, uncontrollably trying to take me in. Oh, the sounds you make—Like you're afraid."

Lance kept quiet. Okay... No more noises.

"Nothing to say now? What about that slut?"

Lance stilled. Was that a question?

"The name you moaned," Lotor prompted.

Lance's face burned. "No! I wasn't—"

Lotor mounted Lance, his superior size making it easy to wrap his hand around Lance's face, clutching his mouth painfully. Lance tried to speak, but Lotor's grip was so strong.

"I find it very hot, you moaning out the name of a human, all senses lost but the pleasure I bring you... And you... Blissfully unaware of the punishment for such an act."

Lance whimpered. How long had he been crying?

"On the other hand," Lotor taunted. "Not a human... Half Galra... I'm your type, Lance."

Lotor's cock pressed against Lance's hole.

No...

Lotor's tongue had been so good. Lance didn't want pleasure forced on him at all, but he really didn't want Lotor lighting him on fire and then hurting him.

He begged through Lotor's hand, but it was all unintelligible.

"Tell me, Lance. Does your cock hurt? Does it fill with blood? Is it exploding with veins?"

Lance tried not to think about it.

"Now, Lance. Tell me, does it hurt in your armor? Restricted? Do you want me to let it out to play?"

Lance nodded his head. No, he didn't want to 'play', but it hurt so bad, he wanted it free.

"Now imagine that. Day after day after day. Imagine watching your Galra Paladin train, writhing beneath you... And tell me, do you want to keep it locked away? Would you still, if you had him pinned underneath you?"

Lance shook his head—not in response, but in fear of what was coming.

"Then don't I deserve you? You think I wanted to keep myself locked away, grinding through a thick barrier while you cried so enticingly?"

Lance started to scream through the hand, begging him not to do it.

Lotor did. He pushed in, not quite burying himself to the base, but still hitting Lance's barrier—it felt like. Lance didn't feel pleasure as Lotor rubbed against his prostate. Lotor was only using him now, mumbling exactly what he wanted to do to him. Lance was just a hole now—one Lotor threw himself into, crying out about how it felt, about how lucky Lance was, about how he was built to be fucked by Lotor—and Lotor only, and, worst of all, talking dirty about Keith... Calling him slut and a whore.

"Oh, the taste of you, Young Paladin, I almost came right there. You're so pretty like this. You take me so well. You're so good for me. I'm so good in you."

Lotor continued to rant in his ear, filling Lance with a load of sticky, white substance. The feeling of the intruding substance scared Lance, but he felt his own insides slip against each other, making him moan once Lotor had stopped thrusting.

"Oh, you like me? You want to suck my juices out of my Cock for yourself? Ah, you're doing it again, tightening around me..."

Lotor pulled out.

Lance almost fell over and onto the floor there, not realizing how much he was relying on Lotor for support.

"I meant what I said," Lotor mumbled as Lance heard shuffling—Lotor's hands still on Lance's arms. "I want you wet—and my cum is all yours."

For a horrifying moment, Lance thought that Lotor wasn't finished, that he'd fuck him again—over and over until Lance couldn't take it. Lance felt an object being pushed into Lance's ass—a plug.

"Keep it safe, Sweet Sharpshooter. That warmth will be mine again soon."


	6. Chapter 6

**Lotor**

* * *

Lotor arrived at a Galra base just in time.

Contrary to what Lance believed, Lotor did have a contingency plan. He brought the Green Lion—with Blue, Yellow, and Black on his tail, to his father's ship. He had just begun to feel the pull of Pidge's bond when he escaped with Lance.

He applied more restraints to Lance, keeping his legs bound together in several places, even adding straps to his arms.

Lotor didn't have his usual toys, but he did have the plug—and the ring. Lotor had been so pent up, he must've subconsciously prepped himself with restraints and tools built to make Lance feel the pain of rejection.

He dragged Lance into the base in his Paladin armor, a plug in his ass and a ring on his painfully hard cock.

Lotor needed to pin Lance to the wall, a ring gag in his mouth. He needed to fuck into that safe, that little cum bank. Lotor's lower stomach swirled and be began to understand why Sendak always worked with an erection.

The minute Lotor was finished here, he'd be fucking Lance long and hard... He'd make it long to punish Lance for Lotor's frustration.

Lotor smiled. Now he also knew why the Champion was always so beat up, so scratched, and limping hard.

Lotor didn't have sharp teeth or claws like Sendak, nor did he have his lust for blood, but Lotor might like to mark his property up a bit.

He might like him in red.

Lotor ordered them to lock the Green Lion uptight, much like Sendak had done with the Red Lion.

Then, Lotor dragged Lance by his collar to meet with his father.

It wasn't unusual for the large Galra crowd at a gladiator match to see a general, prince, or the emperor with a body draped over their lap.

Lotor remembered the days before he left. Back when Commander Sendak's toy was unique. The crowd had been shocked to see one of the strongest Galra with someone who wasn't, well, Galra. It was revolutionary when a higher up would take even a half Galra as a mate.

Commander Sendak broke the system by playing his games with a human at the match. The audience, even Lotor himself, was entranced by Sendak as he fucked a human—making him ride him.

But seeing Prince Lotor sitting with his father after being sentenced to death... With what could only be a Paladin of Voltron kneeling by his feet, that was a sight.

After turning in the Green Lion, his father was eager to see him.

Lance was still in full armor, sitting on his calves, his upper half holding onto Lotor's legs by his arms. Lance had a muzzle on him, it absorbed all sound, so Lotor and his father wouldn't be disturbed.

"I am the rightful Pilot of the Green Lion," Lotor concluded.

He glanced down and saw the panic and terror in Lance's eyes.

"And I can see you've put another of the Lions out of commission," Zarkon said, acknowledging Lance for the first time since he got here.

"Yes. Father—"

"My turn to speak," Zarkon declared. "The empire under your rule nearly collapsed. You stopped us from killing Voltron, the rebels, and the Blade of Marmora with that stunt you pulled... You were always so inquisitive."

Lotor kept his face in check, making sure Zarkon couldn't see his fear... Or his calculations.

"But I am prepared to forgive you for that. It seems, your nature may serve us well after all. You will Pilot the Green Lion. I will reestablish my bond with the Black Lion. We will fly Voltron together..."

Lotor rubbed his hands absent-mindedly through Lance's hair. He felt Lance tremble in fear under his fingertips.

"Father, I worry. Have you only forgiven me because of my ability to pilot the Green Lion?" Lotor dared to ask.

"No," Zarkon said. "It is because you have always strived to be separate from the empire. You have always been different. Now... I believe you have seen the reason behind our ways... The Paladin may be a threat, but I will allow you to keep him."

Lotor felt a huge weight lifted off his chest. He didn't know why, but he really wanted to keep Lance. He had never allowed a being to corrupt him like this...

Lotor took a deep breath. Maybe it was time for him to talk to his father properly, like true father and son.

Lotor switched to an old Galran dialect, one Honerva had taught him. "Father, I always thought our ways were weak... And I have not changed my mind. I fear this Paladin will ruin me."

Zarkon looked at Lotor with a steely resolve. "How so? Is your allegiance really to him and his friends?"

Lotor shook his head. "No. I haven't been able to think about anything without him in the back of my mind. More than his body... I want—this isn't like Commander Sendak's toy... I desire him."

Zarkon's steely expression softened. "Is it your intention to ask for his consent?"

Lotor felt his head click into place. He didn't know that's what he wanted until Zarkon said it.

"Would you allow me the time to work on a threat like him?"

Zarkon turned back to the match. "Sendak used to go into battle distracted. He used to come back anxious to fuck his little champion. I told him that his focus might return if he took Takashi as his mate. Sendak has no interest, unfortunately. He is a purely sexual being.

"However, you, my son, might find yourself uncorrupted by this human if you could experience the comfort I do with Haggar. He will be yours. You can even rename him. I believe asking for his consent might make you very happy indeed."

Lotor sighed. "I wish I didn't have to ask. I wish I could just take him and lock him in my room. I would never have to worry about him, he'd always be there for me."

"No," Zarkon insisted, looking directly at Lance.

Lance had the nerve to glare—he glared at the emperor. A tiny paladin, squirming on the floor from his erection, cum in his ass—and he glared.

"You will always worry. With his consent, he will never run away. With his consent, he could be a warrior. He could pilot the Blue Lion alongside us. He will be yours, body and soul. All you have to do, is get his consent, until then, he will always be a risk—and he is that, my son, a risk."

Lotor grabbed Lance's hair, making him flinch. "I can do it. I have already drilled into his head my right to punish him. He has submitted to punishment in the past. I only hope I haven't kidnapped him too soon—that's what may have spurred this rebellion in him—but that Shiro forced my hand."

"Sendak's Takashi? You could order him to stand down. With his situation..."

"I did," Lotor explained. "It's how I got out, but he had prepared. He alerted the Blade of Marmora and had that little, Green pesk running for my Lion."

Zarkon sighed. "Very well. I won't tell you how to train your mate, but if you make this too excruciating, you may lose him. He appears to be at an ample period for release."

"I was hoping to finish our conversation. Then I'll do it here. I want him to feel watched. I want him to hate the release I can grant him. Only I can grant him."

"You have good tactics. I'm glad to hear I won't have to step in and help you break the young Blue Paladin... Blaytz was just a toy—but he was still tricky."

Lotor's stomach dropped. The blue armor. Zarkon thought that Lance was the Blue Paladin.

Lotor couldn't correct him. He couldn't. If his father found out that Lance was, quite literally, the right hand of Voltron, loyal to its leader—the one to replace King Alfor... He might revoke his permission for Lotor to train him.

"I will leave you now," Zarkon rose. "I have no interest in objectifying your future prince. I hope he gives you his consent."

"Me too," Lotor expressed.

Zarkon left and Lotor took deep breaths. He could do this, he would just have to make Lance perfect for the Blue Lion. He would ask Haggar to start quintessence treatments.

Until then...

Lotor switched back to English. "Sweet Paladin, does it hurt?"

Lance nodded, his eyes wet with desperate tears. Lotor couldn't imagine it, a ring on his cock for over an hour.

Lotor picked Lance up, the boy whimpering as he did—laying Lance on his back, right on top of Lotor.

Lotor pulled the rip from Lance's Paladin armor over his cock. Lotor stroked it a couple times, making Lance squirm on Lotor's body, his cries silent.

Lotor liked listening to Lance moan and scream, but Lotor loved the idea of Lance screaming his head off, inside the muzzle, moaning and groaning. Lance might seek comfort in knowing no one could hear him, but Lotor knew. And Lance knew.

Lotor used his other hand to strangle Lance's cock, while he removed the ring. Lotor stroked him, precum leaking out like no tomorrow.

Lotor released his hold on Lance once he felt Lance tense up painfully. Lance came instantly, his body writhing and jumping and his eyes fluttered shut as he threw his head back into Lotor's chest.

It took him a while to come down from it, but he looked beautiful when he did. His eyes were nearly closed, squinting up at Lotor as his chest heaved.

Lotor grabbed Lance, cradling him baby style, admiring the look on his face, completely spent and helpless—bound entirely.

Lotor carried Lance through the halls, enjoying the privacy. Enjoying the sweet curves of Lance's face. Lotor disengaged the muzzle and let Lance breath the fresh air.

The sound of his breathing was intoxicating, his soft moans turning Lotor on. His eyes kept fluttering closed.

As Lotor laid him on his bed, the white sheets a stark contrast to Lance's beautiful face. Lotor was so fucking hard, and Lance still had an ass full of cum. It would be so easy...

Lotor got himself under control, loosening Lance's bonds enough to let the young boy sleep.

In the future, Lance will be expected to serve Lotor, even in sleep—whenever Lotor felt like it. But now, Lotor would let him rest. He didn't have the human's consent.

One day, Lance would give his consent. Then, he would be Lotor's—one hundred percent. He would do anything and everything Lotor wanted. He would pilot the blue lion. He would serve the Galra.

He would be Lotor's. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Lance**

* * *

Lance awoke after that handjob at the gladiator match in Lotor's private chambers. Lotor had a bed of soft, white sheets atop steel gray floors. There were windows looking out into the stars—decorated with gold and purple accents.

Lotor was there. Lance had slept tied up in his Paladin armor, a plug in his ass. Lotor circled the bed like a predator, eyeing Lance's form.

Lotor leaned down on the bed, lightly tapping on the plug, sending shivers up Lance's spine.

The gag was off—that muzzle that absorbed all of Lance's screams, but Lance still said nothing. Lotor took his sweet time, slowly loosening one strap at a time, removing the armor underneath it, then tightening it.

Lance laid there in his all-black bodysuit, whimpering as Lotor traced every line with his eye. Lotor cut off the suit strip by strip until he was naked. Lance laid there—perfectly immobilized as Lotor dragged the plug out of his ass agonizingly slow.

Lance tensed at the feeling of emptiness. His hole gaped from being pried open all night after a rough fucking—clenching and unclenching at the empty space. Lotor fingered him there, moving a digit in easily passed his blown open rim. He shoved more in one at a time, stretching Lance even more as he scissored him with four fingers.

Lance blinked a tear down his cheek, a disgusting feeling swallowing his gut as he thanked Lotor. This time, it wouldn't hurt. He was so stretched he could take two dicks at once.

The thought made him sweat... Lotor wouldn't share him, would he?

Lotor would probably just like Lance open enough for him to scream less. That way Lotor could talk dirty in his ear, groaning about how Lance was made for him, how he was built for him.

Lance stayed writhed, using his legs that were bound every inch to lift himself off the bed, arching his back, trying to get Lotor's fingers out of him.

Lotor used his fingers, lining them up side by side rather than clumped together. Lance clenched his teeth together and screamed as his ass stretched. Lotor slammed him down on the bed with his new leverage.

Lance continued to squirm and writhe on the bed, Lotor's fingers making him feel good in all the wrong ways.

"Lie still, take it, Sharpshooter," Lotor growled.

"Please! Lotor, let me go! Let me—no, just stop!"

Lotor took a deep breath, "Young Paladin, lie still, or be made to."

Lance didn't follow his orders.

His orders.

Lance felt no different here, on a Galra station, on fucking Zarkon's ship than he had on the Castle of Lions. Either place, Lotor challenged him and took him. In the castle, Lotor and he would spar, then Lotor would show him why he must learn to fight—he'd punish him for his failures.

Here, they seemed to be playing a different game. Lance was following different orders. Lotor would still punish him.

Lotor pulled his fingers out, Lance collapsed in the bed. Lotor eyed him angrily.

"Lotor, you don't have to do this. You don't have to... Don't fly the lion for Zarkon, please..." Lance pleaded, unsure of where he was going.

"What do you have for me, in exchange, my sweet, young Paladin?"

Lance closed his eyes, sobbing loudly. "I'll let you have me,"

"Have you?" Lotor leaped onto the bed, pinning him down.

Lance had his arms underneath his body, his wrists bound, his legs trapped together.

Lance nodded. He meant it, he really did. He was so terrified of Lotor and Zarkon in Voltron, he'd do anything.

Lance failed his friends. Lance let Lotor get closer to the Green Lion. Lance allowed this to happen, all because he feared losing a competition. Lotor had shown him how easily he would lose every time.

"Liar..." Lotor slapped Lance's cheek.

"I'm not lying! I'm not lying!" Lance cried as Lotor spun him on his stomach. "I'm not lying! I'm not—"

Lotor slapped Lance's ass.

Lance screamed into the sheets, mostly out of frustration. Was he lying? He had to have been. Lotor knew he was lying.

Lance didn't really want to give himself to Lotor. Lance only wanted to get him away, then he'd escape.

"I'm sorry..." Lance cried.

"You must be so wet, Sharpshooter."

Lance let his tears soak the sheets below.

But Lotor didn't fuck him. Despite Lance sleeping with his cum inside him, Lotor didn't fuck him.

Lotor flipped Lance back onto his back and pinned Lance's legs to his own chest, folding him. Lotor ate him out.

Lance moaned—unafraid of Lotor becoming erect at the sounds, he just wanted it to end. If Lotor was turned on, it would end soon.

No matter how good it felt, Lance wanted it to end.

Lotor's tongue dragged in every surface, swallowing his own cum and cleaning Lance out, lighting Lance's nerves on fire. Lance cursed into the sheets. He didn't remember, but he thought Lotor ordered him to scream his name.

Lance didn't remember doing it, but his voice was sore and he didn't remember being punished.

Lotor then swallowed Lance's dick, performing the fastest blowjob Lance had ever heard of, though that might've been his fault. Lance screamed for the last time and fell back in the bed, his limbs aching from being tied up.

Lotor swallowed every drop. Lotor laid Lance out straight, making him hold still, his euphoria overtaking him. Lotor kneeled on the bed, straddling Lance. Lotor jacked himself off, coming hard over Lance's body. Lotor's cum was white, with the faintest blue tint. Lotor decorated Lance's chest with it.

Lotor dressed and eyed Lance on the bed, his face unreadable.

He had the guards take Lance away, where he was dressed in prison rags and thrown into a cell.

Lance didn't stand a chance—and the other prisoners knew it. The prisoners informed Lance on his first day that it wasn't unusual for the Prince to come in and fuck one of them—which hurt Lance... He was hanging on to this tiny scrap of hope that Lotor was attracted to Lance. Lance liked the idea of a dashing Prince being enticed by Lance, a lowly human.

But, no. Lotor just threw him in with all of the other creatures Lotor seemed so enticed by.

They told him the prince wasn't like the generals, the officers, or the commanders, he wasn't interested in their pleasure or any game.

They told Lance to lie still and take it. Lance would feel pain and fear, then Lotor would finish.

That's what they told him.

Lance didn't know why that wasn't what it was like. Lotor had taken him in the cells twice, each time for a blow job in front of the other prisoners.

The first time, Lotor put a ring gag in and fucked Lance's mouth dry. It was surprisingly detached and lacked intimacy compared to their last session... The last time Lotor raped him.

Then, as Lance sat on his ankles, crying on the floor, Lotor made him look up. Tears streaked down Lance's cheeks and Lotor wiped them away, Lance flinched away from his touch, and Lotor stormed out.

The prisoners found that strange. They said maybe Lotor had a preference for humans. Maybe he did show Lance a particular interest after all.

Then they moved on.

The second time, Lance was too terrified to fight back. He knew the rules. He knew to accept the consequences. Not of his actions—Lance was pretty sure he'd done nothing wrong—but of the lost battle.

Lance could fight back, but Lotor would beat him until he couldn't. Then Lance would have to endure the punishment without his strength.

Lotor had done it before.

Lance knew when he was defeated—and he was defeated.

So when Lotor came in again, Lance kneeled when told to, keeping his head down in shame.

"Lance?" Lotor asked, his accent heavy and dripping with the inquiry.

"I yield," He whispered, his voice more enforced by air than anything else.

Lance thought Lotor would make him say it again; only much louder, but he didn't. Lotor accepted. Lance thought maybe he had the upper hand, in some way. Maybe this meant Lotor's rules would slacken, then Lance could escape.

That fight Lance would win. He'd have to.

Lotor touched Lance's cheek with the back of his hand. Lance glanced up and found Lotor staring down at him expectantly, his purple cock an inch from his lips.

Lance swallowed, wetted his mouth, then hesitantly licked the tip. Lance touched his tongue to the bottom of Lotor's head and the Galra thrust in. Lance choked, the texture of Lotor's member surprising him as much as it did when he was in here last.

The first time, when Lotor had fucked him in the Green Lion, Lance couldn't feel it, he was in far too much pain. But the second time, Lotor forcing him to blow him in the cell, he realized it was almost like ceramic.

Lance started to study it for real. Lotor was moving slowly, so Lance was finally able to realize what was so different about it. It was still fleshy, it gave in as Lance applied pressure, but it glided across Lance's tongue with incredible speed.

Lotor groaned as Lance turned the pressure on and off, trying to get a feel for it. Upon realizing how much Lotor loved it, Lance continued—not remotely interested in Lotor's pleasure—he only wanted Lotor to come.

Lotor closed his eyes, it was brief, but Lance caught on and started sucking faster. His throat was raw, but he used it, trying to remember to relax and open his throat, breathing in before he went back down.

Lotor was letting out soft groans, his eyes fluttering open and closed. Lance felt Lotor's grip on his face tighten, urging Lance to go faster.

Lance complied, if he didn't, Lotor would do it for him.

Lotor did it anyway. Lance lost all control and Lotor fucked his throat, never pulling the head of his cock passed Lance's tongue. Lance could only take half-breaths in between thrusts and he was choking constantly. He was gagging and choking.

Lotor pulled out, his breaths really heavy. He patted Lance's uncut cheek twice, looking at him expectantly.

Lance breathed out strained breaths, but he still leaned forward, ready to take in Lotor's cock.

Lotor grabbed his throat, pulling him slightly off his knees. Lance sobbed, unsure of what to do. Lotor threw him down on the ground.

Lance landed on his side, unable to catch himself with his hands bound. Lance remembered he and Lotor weren't alone as he made eye contact with one of the prisoners he'd been talking to—getting his advice from.

The prisoner kept making eye contact, reassuring Lance, ordering him to stay still. Lance did and Lotor lost it.

Lotor kicked Lance down, growling in his throat. Lance caught the eye of the prisoner so they held his gaze.

So Lance kept still. Lotor grabbed Lance by his hair, ripping him back up to his knees. He dragged his prison shirt over his head and pulled it around Lance's wrists. He threw Lance back on the ground, pulling his pants off.

The prisoner kept giving Lance that look.

Lance fought every instinct the had. He couldn't move. He couldn't move. He couldn't move.

Lotor slapped his ass, hard. Lance yelped and the prisoner shot him a warning look.

Lance turned his gaze away from the prisoner. "What—what do you want?"

There was a shuffle as the inmates backed away in fear—but Lance knew better.

He knew Lotor better.

Lotor hadn't walked into Lance's room on the ship and raped him. He never demanded Lance be quiet and then walked away.

No.

Lotor commanded Lance to submit. And even though Lotor always held him down, Lance knew he wanted Lance to submit to his wishes.

"You know what I want," Lotor said, grabbing Lance's wrists by the binds.

Lance sobbed. He recognized this, from when Lotor stole his virginity—when he raped him. Lance shifted his position, propping his ass up in the air.

Lance shook, entirely terrified. It had hurt so bad last time...

Lotor plunged in, his gigantic Galra cock pushing passed Lance's closed rim and into his ass. No preparation was taken. Lotor didn't finger him or eat him out. There was no lube. Just raw flesh grinding together... Quite literally burning Lance's insides.

Lance screamed, hunching his back against Lotor's wishes. Almost instantly, Lotor shoved his back down, making him arch in the opposite direction. Lotor ripped Lance open.

Lance could feel it. He felt the god damn tear open inside him as Lotor thrusted, gasping for roughly a minute before coming inside him. Lance fell back to the ground, sliding off Lotor's cock.

Lotor jerked Lance's body back, making him groan. Lance could feel his eyes drooping, his consciousness slipping. He did register Lotor plugging him back up. Lotor was going to make good on that promise and fuck him wet.

Lotor flipped Lance onto his back, running his hands on his chest. Lance was so focused on the feeling of Lotor's cum in his open wound he barely registered the words that came out if Lotor's mouth. "Sweet Paladin..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Unknown**

* * *

The prisoner that shared a cell with Lance thought that he might've been the bravest being they had ever seen. Lance was dropped in here exactly like they all had been, so there was nothing special about him.

But then the prisoner heard Lotor mumbling under his breath, groaning Lance's name—calling him sweet paladin and sweet sharpshooter; young paladin and young sharpshooter.

The prisoner was able to put the pieces together. Lance was a paladin of Voltron. Lotor had taken more than a liking to his mouth, he liked the paladin himself.

He called him an old Galra term. One heard of only among the highest ranks. The ones who resided in the interrogation rooms—the kind that broke souls.

The kind that broke them.

The prisoner waited too long to go to Lance's side. The boy was unconscious and Lotor was gone... But the prisoner was still petrified. He would not be caught touching the Prince's property.

The term meant something akin to falling so desperately in love the mind snaps. It wasn't technically someone falling in love, it wasn't a verb, it was a term of possession—a term of ownership. It was the term someone in power used when they had picked their mate because it was the kind of people who decided they wanted to own someone... Usually did it one way or another.

The Galra couldn’t help themselves. Once they realized loyalty was a greater motivation than pain or fear; they adjusted. Once they realized loyalty could be planted in a living mind, they celebrated. But what would a Galra do with a prisoner who gives unending devotion to their captors? Eventually, they discovered what they could do to those prisoners.

This young human was going to be beaten, manipulated, raped, and brainwashed by Lotor, but the prisoner was relieved.

Of all the people who came in to use them, Lotor was by far the worst. He was beyond detached, taking his pleasure and leaving. If the Prince had someone other than them to focus on—Lance had to give his consent.

If Lance gave Lotor his consent, Lotor would leave them alone. This boy could save them...

The prisoner dragged themselves over, resisting the urge to touch Lance's face. They would not caress his face, even if they were unmonitored.

Lance slowly dragged himself out of his sleep, his eyes blinking up at the prisoner. "Just lying still didn't work."

The prisoner took a deep breath. "Lotor wants different things from you, I'm sorry."

"What does he—he want from me? Why is he doing this t—to me?" Lance sobbed, hysterical and sharp breaths intercepting his speech.

"He wants you to be his… His."

Lance blinked, "Is that what he called me? A—"

The prisoner mourned. "Promise me you won't ask him what it means, okay? Promise me."

Lance took in a deep breath. "Promise..."

The prisoner relaxed.

"So, what does it mean?" Lance asked.

The prisoner might've laughed on another day, but he was too terrified to indulge the young slave.

He was property. And if the prisoner told him what it meant, he might fight it. The prisoner had to allow Lotor to do his work so that the paladin would fall in love... So that he wouldn't fight it.

Lance had to learn what it was like to give yourself completely to someone, for the rest of your life.

"You do know what it means, don't you?"

"Yes, it is an ancient Galran word. I only know... I only know because I was someones... She took my name and died in battle."

"What was your name?" Lance whispered.

The prisoner shook their head. "You don't understand... I gave it to them—I gave my consent. I never got a new one... It's taboo to take someone else's as your own... So here I am."

"But you remember it, don't you? This—they don't own you, you must remember it."

"I have forgotten," The prisoner knew if they thought hard enough, they might remember, but they didn't want to.

They wanted to be under the grip of their general again... Her claws and teeth...

"You will learn what it means... But you mustn't ask... I beg you, learn on your own... You could save us."

Lance sobbed. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the prisoner. "I can feel his cum in my ass. I—I can feel it."

"Save your strength," The prisoner advised.

"It's inside me—god, Jesus, no. Please, get it out."

"Lance, please, rest."

"No, it's—I don't want this—I don't deserve this... I never did. I don't want to keep losing."

The prisoner gave in, wiping the tears off of Lance's face.

They knew how confusing and scary it could be to fall in love, but they knew he would move on. Lance would be scared, them happy. He would feel used, then realize the fulfillment... The pleasure of someone loving you so much they wanted every piece of you.

That they wanted to claim responsibility for your every decision...

The prisoner softly stroked Lance's hair as the boy cried.

"I'm tired of losing... I don't want to be punished. It's not—I haven't—"

Lance started to gag, he rolled onto his side, a motion the prisoner recognized. The prisoner held him steady as Lance coughed, but the boy managed not to throw up.

The door clanged and the prisoner scuttled backward, leaving the boy alone. The other prisoners followed his lead.

Lance opened his eyes and looked pleadingly over at the group, they all looked away.

Then the prisoner heard the words, "How are you feeling, Sweet Lance?"

The prisoner looked back up, watching Lance cry.

"You ripped me..."

"Shhh, Young Paladin... How does it feel?"

"It hurts," Lance cried.

The prisoner looked meaningfully at Lance, warning him to behave.

Lotor massaged Lance's legs, his fingers caressing his inner thighs. The prisoner felt awful about watching... How were they supposed to objectify someone's property like this? Some Galra liked people eyeing their prize, while others were too possessive for it. The prisoner hoped Lotor liked Lance on display, because they watched, rocking their body slightly as they did.

Lotor turned Lance over on his knees. He pulled his pants entirely off. He then proceeded to cut off the shirt entangled around Lance's wrists. Lance stopped whimpering, the strain and fear palpable on his face.

Lotor turned Lance onto his back, separating his knees and balancing himself on his forearms. He moved his body in soft fluid movements against Lance's front. Lance started to respond, his mental resistance wasn't known to the audience—his closed eyes, thrown back head, and open mouth told their own story.

Lance's adam's apple bounced up and down in his throat. Lotor's muscles clenched and unclenched, clearly resisting the urge to pounce. Lotor's moans ceased and transformed into breathy gasps. Lotor's airflow hitched and sputtered as he ground against Lance's growing erection.

"Young Lance... Oh, Sharpshooter—"

Lance clenched his eyes together, his back flexing as Lotor rubbed his clothed member against his inexperienced cock. Lotor bit his lip and growled as Lance painted his own chest white. Lotor clutched Lance's legs, the young human convulsing as he came. A tear fell down the human's bronze skin as he settled.

Lotor did not waste any time with his Sharpshooter. He grazed his fingertips eagerly across Lance's skin, panting as he did.

Lotor looked so desperate for it. He looked so ready to take his prize. He coaxed soft moans from Lance, arousing the boy once again. His soft, spend member laid dead on his stomach, pulsing ever so slightly.

Lance came down from his euphoria to a devastating reality. The prisoner watched realization dawn on the paladin as he realized he was still living through it—that Lotor wasn't finished.

Lotor chuckled, coercing Lance to sit upon his elbows and look at him.

"Now, bring my cock out."

Lance's breath hitched at the suddenness of Lotor's orders. Lance was no longer able to close his eyes and retreat into his own head—whatever it was he had to do to survive Lotor's advances.

"Lotor—"

"Now. Do your job," Lotor commanded.

Lance tensed, his chest heaving. "Lotor, please, let me go—ah!"

Lotor clenched Lance's fingers in his strong hands, forcing the boy to bend into him.

"I'm so tired, I don't know—please, Lotor—"

"Prince," Lotor corrected.

"Prince—"

Lotor moaned, maneuvering Lance's hands to the slick black belt on his dress uniform. "Call me that again."

"Lotor—uh! Prince! Prince—" Lance choked as Lotor clenched his wrists.

"My prince."

"... Uh—My prince..."

"Now put those steady hands on your Prince's cock. Do as your told."

Lance hesitated, his hands still lingering by Lotor's belt. He glanced over at the prisoner and looked away in shame.

Lance removed Lotor's buckle and removed the strap, pulling the pants down and hooking them under Lotor's balls.

Lotor leaned down, purring in Lance's ear. Wrap your hands around my weapon."

Lance sniffed, lancing at Lotor's waist. "You mean literally?"

As quick as a viper, Lotor drew the knife on his belt and seized Lance by the neck—pulling him up into a sitting position, the tip of the blade touching Lance's bottom lip.

There were no words exchanged, just Lance's heavy breaths and Lotor's icy stare until Lance tenderly caresses Lotor's member.

Lance looked up at Lotor, his head still angled down to prevent cutting his lip.

When Lance spoke, his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "My prince..."

Lotor froze for an instant then sheathed his blade. He pushed Lance down in a single sharp movement, bracing his hand on the Paladins chest.

"Put yourself in check, Paladin—you just slept with your prince's cum in your ass. And now, you get to feel what it's like to be soaked."

Lance shivered, flinching from Lotor's words which seemed to strike a chord.

Lotor bent Lance's legs until his ankles touched his thighs. Lotor parted his knees and opened Lance's figure up wide.

"I didn't say you could stop."

Lance continued his movements, trying to finish Lotor off before he could do anything. Lotor's impossibly hard cock twitched, but the Galra maintained control.

"Hold the base, Sharpshooter."

Lance clutched the base of Lotor's cock, his hands shaking.

Lotor took advantage of Lance's legs spread open and dragged the plug out so slowly Lance's body started to jerk and grind against the toy. Lotor yanked it out, eliciting a yelp from the human below him, and touched his head to the tip.

Lance's rim contracted around Lotor's large, slippery head, his hole begging to be plugged up after so long... The pain of sudden emptiness could be unbearable.

"Fuck yourself."

Lance sobbed, shaking his head. "You bastard..."

"Fuck yourself on my cock. Put my hard weapon into your dripping hole and milk it until you're sopping wet."

Lotor wrapped his own hand around Lance's and made his squeeze it harder. Lotor tormented Lance with his filthy words until Lance visibly conceded, going limp under Lotor's body. Lance's arm flexed as he pulled Lotor inside his slowly, his eyes watering and Lotor stretched his rim.

Lotor cursed as he bottomed out, allowing Lance to release his grip on Lotor's dick.

Lotor pulled out and thrust slowly inside the tense figure below him. The prince pushed Lance's legs to his chest and started to pick up the pace slowly. As Lotor evolved from his snail's pace to a gentle rhythm, Lance closed his eyes, stifling his whimpers of pain every time Lotor's head grazed that rip inside his walls.

Lotor increased the pace just a bit more, his main interest in watching Lance's erection return, blood filling his member to a faint firmness.

"You gonna come with just my cock?"

Lance groaned. "Fuck you."

Lotor didn't need to respond, he just started bucking his hips, rocking himself into Lance until the Paladin was screaming from the pain.

"You look so beautiful like this—" Lotor teased. "I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Lance opened his eyes a fraction, his gaze following Lotor's until they found the prisoner's.

The prisoner paused, unable to come up with an excuse for their behavior—nor could they figure out if they would be permitted to say it out loud if they had one.

Lotor's hand left Lance's body momentarily to draw his gun, assuming it at the prisoner. Then the whole scene: Lotor, Lance, and the other inmates just vanished before the prisoner could figure out what had happened. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Lance**

* * *

Lance flinched as the gun went off, not completely registering what was happening. Lotor's cock was still inside his ass, but he'd stopped moving.

The relentless torment on Lance's damaged insides may have halted, for now, but he was forced to look at Lotor's doing.

The prisoner—the only prisoner who had comforted Lance in his time here—slumped against the wall dead. Their body hadn't even fallen to the ground, they just fell back.

Lance didn't see evidence that they had been touching themselves, so he assumed Lotor had caught them trying to reassure Lance.

They had tried to help Lance through this and Lotor executed them as he pounded into Lance. Lance braced his heels against the hard floor, pushing away from Lotor, groaning as his head passed the sensitive tear inside him. He was starting to feel feverish. Lance started to shake as a sudden chill passed over a body.

"Get a doctor..." Lance mumbled, falling on the floor, laying on his side.

Lotor grabbed Lance by the shoulders and forced him to stand. Lance didn't even moan as he was yanked to his feet. He was so numb... So cold...

Lotor held Lance against his chest, his head tucking a slight distance under the Galra's chin. "Sorry, but they're gone."

"No—" Lance protested, a shiver running up his spine. He needed a doctor.

"Yes," Lotor insisted. "They were looking at you. I know how irresistible you can be—they would have acted the moment I left."

"They—they took care of me. When you left—they helped me," Lance explained.

Lotor's grip tightened and he dragged Lance into the hall, pinning him to the wall by his shoulders. Lance tried to support himself, but he gave up and went limp, forcing Lotor to pick him up and throw him against the wall.

Lance let his head drop—his shoulders bearing the weight of his whole body. Lance stared at his dangling feet, his toes scraping the ground.

"I will take care of you, Lance."

Lance didn't look up.

"Lance, look at me," Lotor's voice was surprisingly gentle. Lance attributed that to his sudden illness.

"Lance," Lotor's fingers dug into his shoulders, making him tingle all over.

Lance sighed contently. A wave of warmth spread throughout his body, taking all the pain away. He smiled gently, not flinching when he felt Lotor's hand cup his cheek. Lotor tilted Lance's head up. Lance registered only the soft, purple Galra lights behind the looming figure holding him. Lance's senses shut down, detaching all sensations from his body. Lance felt like he was falling, he reached out blindly in a panic, his hands clutching at empty space.

He heard a lot of yelling.

Lance felt his fingers wrap around something very physical and very reel.

"Squeeze," Someone with a familiar accent whispered.

Lance didn't want to, it felt so much easier to just relax, but he managed to focus his energy into his hand.

"Good, now harder."

Lance shook his head, at least, he meant to—he didn't feel his body move.

"Harder, Lance. What are you doing..."

Lance heard Lotor's voice change, his accent slipping away. He could hear himself then, calling out even though he didn't feel like he was moving. "Help! Help! Help!"

The voice echoed throughout the halls with much more strength than Lance thought he could manage.

He mumbled under his breath. "I need help..."

The next thing Lance remembered thinking was about not dying. He needed help...

Lance could feel sensations returning to his body. As soon as he could, he forced the words out—deep and cracked, but intelligible. "Keith... Keith, come on..."

Lance fell back into the dark numbness again, his instant of sensations gone.

 

When he finally did open his eyes, his hand was covered gently by purple digits. He followed the arm of soft, light purple skin and found the mop of white hair falling elegantly to the ground.

Lance wasn't gripped by the sudden fear or terror like he was earlier. He remembered the warmth he'd felt as he was falling asleep. He calmly pulled his hand away from Lotor's the heat beginning to feel uncomfortable. He moves to touch his head, trying to make the action appear natural.

Lance touched the back of his hand to his forehead and kept his gaze on Lotor. He slowly but surely came out of his hazy state to realize what was happening. He put his hand down and pulled himself up—freezing the moment he realized it was going to hurt like hell.

Lotor misunderstood this and grabbed Lance's shoulders, lifting him so he could sit up all the way. Lance expected pain, but he felt none. There wasn't a hint of ache or hunger anywhere on him.

Lance blinked, taking in the room around him. He was definitely in a hospital bed. The sheets were soft and pale, falling over the sides of his bed. The bed was a slab in the middle of the room, surrounded by equipment on light gray shelves. The lighting was white, not pink or purple like any other room Lance had been taken to.

Lance looked back at Lotor, afraid of what would happen if he didn't acknowledge the prince soon. The prince looked strangely pleased despite the situation.

"Lance?" Lotor prompted.

Lance swallowed. He was going to be given an order. He was going to be forced to sleep with him again. Despite Lotor doing this to him constantly over the past three days, the absence of pain at that moment made Lance much more afraid of the possibility.

The pain was finally over... Lotor would ruin that.

It wasn't about winning or losing anymore. Lance lost no battles, yet Lotor took him anyway.

Then again... Maybe it was. Maybe Lance had lost the final battle by letting himself be captured. Maybe this would be his life forever.

"Lance, talk to me," Lotor pleaded.

"What—what do you want..." Lance found it unbearably hard to finish his sentence, so he whispered it. "What do you want me to say?"

Lotor rose slowly; as if Lance were an animal he would scare away. Lance was. He leaned away, shrinking away from Lotor's threatening ga. Lotor sat on the edge of the bed, twisting his body to face Lance. Lotor captured Lance's face in his hands, pulling their heads together.

Lance tensed his back, his shoulders arching and his spine curving. Lotor's unbelievably soft skin touched his own, he smelled sweet, like sugar.

"Tell me you won't do this to me ever again," Lotor said softly, but Lance could hear the danger behind his words.

Lance shook, tears streaming down his face. There was no way he could ask Lotor what he had done... He was afraid of Lotor's retaliation. But he couldn't pretend he knew either, what if he got it wrong?

Instead, he relaxed, leaning into Lotor's embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry?!" Lotor clutched his face so hard it hurt. He pushed Lance back onto the bed until the boy's spine was straight. He held onto both sides of Lance's head, slowly climbing over him until he was hovering over the smaller human. He didn't grind into Lance, even though he had the perfect opportunity to. "I don't want to hear you're sorry! Don't tell me you're sorry!"

"I—I—I—"

"Don't! Just—just tell me you won't do it again."

Lance froze, opening his eyes and staring up at Lotor in fear.

"I—I won't!"

Lotor took a deep breath. "Don't lie! I can tell when you're lying! Lance!"

Lotor's voice broke when he said Lance's name.

"I'm sorry... My prince," Lance added. Lotor opened his eyes, looking hopefully at Lance. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Lotor's eyes turned cold and Lance realized his mistake.

Lance opened his mouth in shock. "I—I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry. Please—"

Lotor grabbed Lance's throat, pulling his neck up at an uncomfortable angle-—forcing Lance's chest only an inch away from Lotor's as a result.

"Why lie? What do you gain by lying?"

"I don't know—"

"Lance, why?!"

"I don't know!" Lance screamed, shocking Lotor. "I don't know! I don't know! Please, I don't know what I did wrong!"

Lotor dropped him. Lance's head hit the hard bed below him.

He sobbed, his voice quivering. "... I don't know what I did wrong..."

Lotor stared at him for a moment, then relaxed. "You really don't..."

Lotor climbed off of Lance. He held his hands out for Lance to grab. Lance took them hesitantly, letting Lotor pull him off the bed.

"From now on, if you have a question, ask it," Lotor said.

Lance nodded. "Uh, okay, my prince."

Lotor's hands fidgeted in Lance's after Lance called him that. Lance smiled, maybe he could get under Lotor's skin if he played his cards right.

When Lotor looked at him like that, he looked pleased and hopeful.

Lotor covered it up immediately, dragging Lance towards a side door. Lance tensed and froze.

Then he remembered Lotor's orders. "Where are we going?"

"The healing process is heavily chemical... I ordered the nurses not to hose you down."

"Why?" Lance asked, his voice softening.

Lotor turned away, dragging Lance by one hand through the door. "Because I wanted to, step in."

Lance looked at the shower station Lotor had pointed out. It was remarkably similar to one from earth, it had lots of space to move and clear doors.

"Lotor?"

"Step in."

Lance closed his eyes. He took his shirt off, leaving his hospital pants on as he climbed into the shower.

"Those too," Lotor ordered.

"Lotor... I don't want to," Lance asked.

"Do it or I'll do it for you."

Lance pinched his lips, fighting off tears. "I'll do it, okay? I—I just want to be alone."

Lotor's head twitched to the side. "Do it. Or I'll come in and fuck you until you tear open again. Then we'll be right back where we started."

Lance took off his pants, revealing himself entirely to Lotor. He kicked the clothes out with surprising calmness. "Is that what I did wrong? You broke me and I did something wrong?"

Lotor stepped forward, slamming his hand on the glass. "I may have broken your virgin ass but you were the one who said nothing. You almost died!"

"Then you almost killed me," Lance hissed defiantly.

Lotor snapped his head back, looking genuinely shocked and surprised.

Lotor waited, staring at Lance from the other side of the glass. "Turn it on, the solution will remove the chemicals for you."

"What?" Lance challenged. "Nothing else to say? No comeback?"

"If I told you what I was thinking, you'd blush... And you don't deserve to be flattered right now."

Lance felt something swirl in his stomach, right below his ribs. He turned before Lotor could see his face beet red.

Lotor must've turned on the shower because the water started to pour down his skin.

Was Lance winning this fight? Lance lost on the training deck... Then Lotor fought Shiro and he lost—this was the consequence. But Lotor couldn't punish Lance for this forever, he had to offer Lance a new challenge.

Or... Lance just offered one himself. If he kept winning, Lotor couldn't touch him.

Lance's optimism diminished when he realized: Lotor would always win. Lotor would win and he'd wind up on the floor while Lotor touched him.

Hell, Lotor would probably just make raping him the basic punishment.

"You're crying, Sweet Paladin."

"I'm fine," Lance said, his tears mingling with the water from the shower.

"It's okay, Lance. The punishment is over. You've... What did you call it? You've served your time. Just don't make me do it again."

Lance turned to face away from Lotor. He started shivering under the warm water.

"Lance?" Lotor asked.

"Hm?" Lance grunted.

"Please, Yield."

Lance scoffed. "Now?!"

He spun around, glaring up at Lotor.

"I haven't lost. Come fight me, bitch—give me a reason."

Lotor raised his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip as he did.

Lotor stepped closer to the shower. "Lance... Next time, if I'm winning—you must accept defeat. Don't make me force it on you again. Please, Young Sharpshooter—promise you'll yield."

"I won't lose, Lotor." Lance turned back around.

"Lance? When you do; don't make me break you."

When Lance turned back around, tears in his eyes, Lotor was gone. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Lance**

* * *

Lance fought with everything he had. He swung his new sword, blocking every strike Lotor rained down upon him.

Lance was completely inexperienced with a sword—it was always Keith's thing. But Lotor told him that fighting with one might make him much better at combat.

He was right. Ever since Lance started training with Lotor he'd gotten so much better at fighting. He was holding his own pretty decently.

But Lotor would win.

He would always win.

Just as Lance had the thought, Lotor had it to—increasing his intensity until Lance was disarmed. Lotor held his sword to Lance's throat. A silent question.

Lance didn't yield, he just stood there.

"Lance," Lotor hissed.

Lance closed his eyes... Four days. He was held as a prisoner for three, he'd been training back on normal schedule for four. Only, you know, on a Galra ship.

"Lance,"

"What?" Lance whispered, his voice growing in confidence as he spoke. "Will you cut me? Will you cut my neck like you did my face?"

"Lance, yield." Lotor pressed the tip of his sword to Lance's throat.

Lance's voice was cracked and rough, the sword cutting his air when he spoke. "I yield."

Lotor dropped the sword. "Really?"

Lance nodded. He could tell Lotor didn't expect it from him, but what could Lance do? Stand there and take a beating? No. There was more than one way to win. Lance would survive. He'd have to live to fight another day.

His heart still buzzed in his chest—his body in fight or flight mode—but Lance denied it both options, he ignored his basic human instincts. Run. Hide. Fight.

Yield.

If he didn't, Lotor would beat him. If Lotor tried hard enough, he would beat Lance down and win.

Lotor claimed he didn't want to hurt Lance, but he had proved that he would do it.

Lotor stared at him from across the room before coming over, doing something he'd never seen Lotor do before: he kissed him.

Lotor grabbed Lance's face and tilted his head nearly ninety degrees, devouring him entirely. His tongue fucked his face, taking away Lance's fear.

Lotor pulled away. Lance stood there gasping. He didn't know Lotor was capable of that. He didn't assume Lotor had... Passion. He thought Lotor would tell him to lay down and take it, maybe suck him off at most. But a kiss?

"You're so defiant."

Lance dropped his sword, his body high on something. "I thought you didn't like that."

Lotor bent down and bit at Lance's earlobe. Lance tried not to, but he started to arch his back, his chest almost touching Lotor's.

"You fight well. Keep yielding. But when you speak... It isn't something I've ever heard before."

Lance grunted. "That's because your spoiled ass has never been told no."

Lance gasped as Lotor grabbed the back of his neck, moving his teeth down to Lance's neck.

"That—" Lotor started, stopping to bite Lance's neck gently.

Lotor gasped, pulling away. "That is what I'm talking about."

Lotor maneuvered Lance around so that the young Paladin couldn't see the prince anymore.

"Now, Lance," Lotor growled, his voice deeper and slower than normal. "You're about to understand what I learned in that lab... With your bleeding body in the table."

Lance grunted as Lotor pushed him into his knees.

"Did you touch me, you bastard?" Lance screamed as Lotor pushed him onto the floor, his face hitting the metal suddenly.

"Armor off."

Lance mumbled under his breath. "I've yielded to what you'll do to me... Not—"

Lotor grabbed Lance's hair—his legs sneaking between Lance's thighs. "You have yielded. We are not on your castle anymore, Sweet Paladin, I want more than your body limp on the floor."

"Fine..."

"Yes, my Prince," Lotor corrected.

"Yes... My Prince."

Lance didn't move, thinking his submission was enough.

"Armor off," Lotor repeated calmly.

Lance grunted, putting his hands under his grasshopper-style and pushing up. Lotor's grip on his hair tightened, but Lance continued pushing back into it. When he was sitting on his heels, he fumbled with the armor.

Lotor released him so he could get the chest piece over his head. Lance took the opportunity to stand, ignoring the quiet growl of disapproval from behind him. Lance stripped down to the bodysuit first. He 'unzipped' it, letting it fall around his shoulders, getting caught on his elbows as he undid the belt section. He let it fall entirely to his ankles.

Lance wasn't given the luxury of underwear, so he stood there, naked. Avoiding eye contact with the guards placed around the room. Two of whom were living, not robots. They stood to attention, not acknowledging the naked boy in front of them.

Lance knelt one leg at a time. He could sense Lotor's presence in the open, cold room. But if Lotor wanted him down like that, his as in the air, he'd have to push him down again.

Every moment Lotor didn't Lance became more afraid. If Lotor was waiting patiently, Lance could submit now—maybe avoid a punishment. He did not want to wind up back in that cell. He just wanted to train and escape.

Lance flinched when he felt Lotor's hands grazing his back. They traveled down his ass, thighs, and calves before one of them locked his ankles together. Lotor used his other hand to shove Lance's back.

Lance put his hands out, catching himself and avoiding injury. Lotor pressed him down. Lance stayed still, his entire front pressed to the mat.

Lotor finally began to speak. "I was worried I would have to change you to make you feel good, but your time in the hospital was... Revealing."

Lance closed his eyes. Change him? What did that mean?

"I know about every inch of you, inside and out. Of course, some places on you will be... Less sensitive than others. But they could also be more."

"Lotor..." Lance groaned. "Just say it. This is getting obnoxious."

Lotor suddenly plunged a small own in Lance's ass. Lance felt a cool substance fill his insides. It was slick and way too slippery.

"You're going to feel this, Lance. Every second of it. I'm going to learn something new about you every time you yield."

Lance opened his eyes, trying to see over his shoulder. Lotor wedged his legs apart, the cool liquid dripping down, making him shiver when it teased his balls.

"Starting here."

Lotor started with his pinky finger. It was so thin Lance felt little to no resistance. Lotor pumped gently, slowly urging Lance to relax and open up. Lance felt Lotor's long hair tickling his back as the Galra leaned down, letting his hot breath warm Lance's neck.

The man used his spare hand to grab Lance's bicep, holding his arm down. Lance froze. Had be been moving?

Lance clenched his fist, putting all of his concentration into holding his muscles tight. It didn't distract him the way he wanted it to. He was hoping to avoid feeling anything good, just hoping it would end. But it only allowed him to relax, his body responding to the feeling of Lotor's finger, dragging gently against the walls inside of him.

It felt good. There was no resistance. It was just Lotor's finger, in and out, gently massaging him. Missing the right spot. Lance's hips raised off the ground and he slammed them back down in a panic.

Too late. Lotor noticed. Lotor added another finger. He stretched Lance wider, scissoring him with his pinky and ring finger. When Lance's hips shifted again, Lotor pulled out. He stuck his middle and index finger into Lance in exchange.

Lance felt the slight difference in size, but it was perfect. It wasn't as big or overwhelming as his Galra cock. But it wasn't as small or teasing as his pinky.

Lance relaxed his back, a small knot cramping—forcing him to realize he'd been so tense.

Lance relaxed and Lotor curled his fingers. Lance refused to tense up again, but it resulted in a groan... A deep sound that ripped its way harshly out of his throat.

Lotor started to push back, then he targeted Lance's prostate with rigor. Lance gasped from the shock, his prostate sending shivers up his spine from the intense beating. Lance didn't get to adjust to it. He just felt it.

Lotor released his grip on Lance's left arm, moving his left leg up to a right angle. Lotor put his knee on the ground, holding Lance open before his hand returned to pinning him down.

With Lotor's hand in his bicep, Lance couldn't lift his chest. Lotor added a third finger. Lance winced, the stretch hurting, a stark comparison to the feeling of Lotor toying with his prostate.

Lotor continues to split him open, widening his entrance. He was done fingering Lance now. He was going to do much worse.

Lotor leaned down, growling in Lance's ear. "Why does the human body react so much to getting 'eaten out', as you put it?"

Lance frowned. Eaten out? No...

Lotor hummed. "I saw how much you enjoyed it in the Green Lion. And it fits with your biology. Is it the softness? The texture? The... Flexibility?"

Lance shook his head. He was not having this conversation. He wasn't.

"You love it all. The wetness and the warmth. Not to mention, my Galra side gives me... A certain dexterity."

Lance whimpered, not loving the sound of Lotor's voice. Why was he even talking? Couldn't he just get it over with?

"Take me, and I'll reward you. I'll make it too much... Then you'll tell me all about it."

Lance grunted. "No."

Lotor didn't respond, but Lance felt him lower himself down, his member prodding at his hole.

Lance sighed. This wasn't going to stop. This wasn't going to end for him. He closed his eyes, feeling Lotor's hair, fingers, and skin dragging across his back when he grabbed his other arm. Lotor pinned him down with his body, his arms restraining him.

Lance shook as Lotor pushed in. Lotor kept it slow, moving until the head of his cock pressed against his prostate, then stopped. Lotor pushed against Lance's prostate a few times before sliding in. Lance felt Lotor's hips against his own.

Lotor had never managed to bottom out before. Lance could feel every inch of Lotor. He felt his entire body squeezing around it, from base to tip. Lotor stayed put. He held Lance still until feeling returned to Lance's thighs. His entire body squirmed on the ground—trying to get Lotor to get out, move, spontaneously combust—he wasn't sure.

Lotor moaned, his grip on Lance's arms tightening as Lance wiggled on his cock. Lance didn't think.

He was done overthinking. Thinking in this situation wasn't fair.

He was going to close his eyes and not think. Lotor would do what he wanted and end it. Why did Lance have to hate it?

The whole point of yielding was to lessen the pain of Lotor's desires. Was he supposed to lay there, hell-bent on hating it?

Lotor already revealed his intentions... How was Lance supposed to fight his own pleasure when that was Lotor's goal?

Lotor pulled out slowly, the movement creating a vacuum inside Lance that his muscles desperately tried to fill. He clenched his ass, trying to keep the unbearably smooth member in. When Lotor paused, only the head was inside Lance. Lance's rim danced around it as Lotor rubbed his ass.

Lance realized what he was waiting for and he relaxed. Lotor slid back in immediately. He repeated himself, this time Lance instantly relaxed to let him back in. Lotor did it again, picking up the pace.

Lance tensed. It was about to hurt. Lotor would lose control.

Lotor pushed back inside Lance anyway, making his rim stretch against his wishes. Lance gasped. That felt really good. That movement, opening him up as he tried to stay closed...

Lotor could tell. Lance felt him pull away in a hurry, then rushing back inside him. Lance's back arched, his hard dick rubbing into the floor. When did that happen?

Lotor laughed. He held himself inside Lance, their bodies pressed against each other. Lotor released his arms, propping Lance up on his own. Lance mewled as Lotor's arms wrapped around his chest, his hips pressed to the floor, his back arching sharply to keep him against Lotor.

Lance tried to speak but only found himself stuttering the first syllable of Lotor's name—along with some curse words.

Lotor started pumping himself into Lance, never pulling out, but always burying himself entirely.

Lotor's pace was torturous. Lance's eyes rolled back into his head as Lotor went just a little too slow. Fast enough to make him want it, not enough to bring relief

"Do you feel that?" Lotor asked as Lance clawed at the floor, failing to find purchase. "Has anyone ever made you feel like this?"

Lance moaned, a low sigh without restraint. Louder and more erotic than anything he'd ever made. No one ever had. Lance had been saving himself. He wanted his first time to be slow and compassionate.

Lotor had forced that from him. Maybe he was making it up for him now.

"Have you ever felt so complete, Lance?" Lotor moaned, his composure leaving as he rocked into the small human underneath him—the perfect little ass finally wrapping around him, swallowing him whole. "So purposeful?"

Lance choked, finding he couldn't swallow with his head arched up. "N... N—No—"

Lance didn't know if he was protesting or answering, just that Lotor picked up the pace—finally giving Lance a satisfying pace.

Lance wasn't sure how long this went on. His voice was raw, his mouth open, his leg cramping from being bent for so long.

Then Lance could feel his body take the final step, coming hard under Lotor's control. Lance felt the come spit awkwardly on the ground, the substance crushed between the metal and his skin. He was so spent he lost awareness of where he was, unable to understand that Lotor was fucking him through his finish.

Lance felt his mouth moving, his voice humming, even his eyes starting to cry. He couldn't hear himself, just felt he words: please, yes, god, and Prince.

He could hear Lotor groaning in approval. "So good, Sharpshooter. That's it—"

Lance moaned. "Please..."

"I'm almost there, Sweet Paladin, I'll give you what you want."

Lotor's thrusts came faster and harder, his rigor hurting Lance's spine.

Lotor dropped Lance, his coming finish taking over his whole being. Lance clawed at the ground, his head between his hands. "Yes, yes... M—My Prince..."

Lotor sped up, his own pleasure making him just as coherent as Lance—which made Lance feel better. He wasn't as weak as he thought.

"L—La—Lo—Ohhhh..." Lance panted broken syllables of Lotor's name. He pushed his forehead into the ground, clenching his ass around the Prince, trying to make himself tighter.

Lotor cried out, digging his fingernails into Lance's waist. Lotor's full body weight was being supported by Lance's ass, the weight and gravity driving his cock deep into the paladin, making his vision spark in and out.

Lance felt every caress, hit, and ounce of pressure Lotor was inflicting inside of him, the combination making him hard.

Lotor pulled out, his head catching on Lance's rim, literally. The ceramic-like plates on his cock pushed outwards to keep inside the warmth of Lance's ass.

Lotor flipped Lance on his back, his muscles screaming but his body grateful for the release.

Lotor came, his thick, slimy come coating Lance's stomach and chest.

Lotor leaned down, whispering in Lance's ear. "I want to taste you this time. I'm going to clean you out and savor every inch."

Lance didn't respond. He felt his head fall against the ground. He could fall asleep pretty easily like this...

Lotor dove between his legs, flicking Lance's entrance with his agile tongue, making the Paladin rock against the ground.

He had just gotten used to being completely full. He'd started to like the sensation of being stuffed. Now he was empty.

Lotor traced his ring, dancing in circles until Lance was grinding back, trying to get that long tongue inside him.

Lotor did, the muscle darting inside Lance and pushing against the walls. Lotor traced Lance's walls with the tip of his tongue, stopping and exploring every part when Lance screamed.

Lance looked down, Lotor's yellow and purple galra eyes looking at him smugly. Lance didn't know made him do it—but he had a sudden urge to win this fight. Lotor didn't get to smirk at Lance coming undone.

Lance dragged two fingers up and down his chest, gathering the clear blue slick on his skin. He looked right into Lotor's eyes. He stuck those fingers in his mouth, sucking the thick and stubborn cum off of them.

Lotor dug his fingers into Lance, attacking his prostate with his tongue with new determination. Lance fell back on the ground, his head hitting the face.

In his daze, Lance continued to scoop at the large deposit of cum on his stomach. It was sweet, like sugar. It had a soft, blueberry-like taste to it, Lance was captivated. Every time he tried to decide on the taste, the word left him, making him try again.

Lance found it hard to gather more, so he looked up, seeing through blurry eyes Lotor's blissed expression, watching him like a hawk as Lance swallowed him cum two fingers at a time. Lotor ran his hands up and Lance's sides, dragging some of the precious lost cum back onto his front.

Lance dug his fingers into the space between his skin and Lotor's hand, where the most cum was. He dug it out of the crevasse, sticking it in his mouth, his eyes fluttering at the sweet taste.

It was honestly addicting. It was thicker than human cum, it's molecules sticking together like glue. When Lance swallowed half of it, little strings tried to drag the other half down. It was hard, but Lance got it down.

He gasped for air, opening his throat when Lotor stuck two fingers in his mouth. Lance sucked on those fingers, tasting the sweet silky substance on his flesh—trying to decide what it tasted like.

Lotor rubbed Lance's prostate lightning speed. Lance threw his head back, Lotor's delicious fingers still in his mouth. His eyes closed and he entered a world of pure bliss.

Lance sucked at the fingers in his mouth, whining in earnest disappointment as they pulled out and rubbed his body. Lance keened Lotor put them back in. Lance tasted the sugary substance, his mouth in heaven as his ass burned on Lotor's tongue.

Lance came, his body convulsing in Lotor's arms. His legs shook and jerked as he came untouched for the second time. He was definitely screaming Lotor's name.

Lance chanted it, coming down from his high as he felt skin touch his lips.

When Lance opened his bright blue eyes, he found the head of Lotor's large cock pressed against his lips. Lotor had straddled Lance, his s fitting under his armpits, but—thanks to his superior size—his cock just barely reached.

Lance's whole body ached. He was so tired...

He felt so warm he didn't register his own pleasure was over. He licked the pee hole, his tongue wiggling into the large Galra's cum shoot with little resistance.

Lance could taste the lube, whatever Lotor used, on his cock, but there was still hints of his cum. Lance cleaned the lube off what he could reach, then tried to pry Lotor open.

Lance looked up, the expression on Lotor's face one of awe and pride and... Something Lance hadn't seen in a while.

Despite Lotor not moving, Lance still did his best, craving his master's cum. It tasted so good. It felt so good on his tongue and going down his throat. It made Lance feel good.

Lotor leaned forward, rewarding Lance with his strong, thick, juicy cock. Lance sucked and slurped, the smooth plating perfectly complementing the thick strands of thick, wonderful cum.

Lotor shoved himself down Lance's throat and dripped precum down his esophagus. Lance whined in protest.

Lotor pulled out, his purple galra eyes nearly black from arousal.

"N—No..." Lance tried to explain, but his body was too elevated for him to speak.

"What's wrong, my Pet?" Lotor sang. His voice was so silky... And Lotor had never called him pet before. Lance thought it suited him.

"Please, Master..."

Lotor grabbed Lance's ace when he called him master. Lance didn't care why.

"Please, n—not down my throat—on my t—tongue. Master," Lance begged. He had to be able to taste it. He had to be able to feel it squish between is tongue and the roof of his mouth. "All over my skin... Let me feel it."

"Fuck, my pet."

Lotor grabbed the back of Lance's head, pulling him up slightly, resting is cockhead just on his tongue.

Lance moaned. "Ank you, thank you, thank you, Aster..."

Lotor came, his cock erupting thick bead after bead of cum onto Lance's tongue. He briefly pushed himself down Lance's throat, dragging his cock out slowly, leaving a perfect stream of thick cum trying to drip down Lance's throat—anchored only by Lotor's cock.

Lotor dragged his spasming cock down Lance's chin, coating his e in the clear substance. His glara size had a lot more cum n store than Lance had dreamed of—the combination of Lotor's arousal with their size difference dragging the sea of fluid down Lance's chest, covering is tits.

"So perfect, Pet," Lotor moaned as his cock emptied. He put the flaccid flesh in Lance's mouth, the Paladin sucking the stream eagerly off his cock, freeing he stream for him to swallow. He just wanted to close his eyes...

"So beautiful, so pretty," Lotor rubbed Lance's legs. "So desperate, my pet."

Lance moaned at the name. "Yes, m—master."

Something in Lotor's eyes changed. "I am your master, Sweet Pet. My Young Pet."

Lance nodded, his body and mind as one—not considering anything but his high. The taste of Lotor...

"Please, Master, let me taste it."

Lotor smiled. "You have my permission."

Lance whined, his spoiled cumslut high too desperate. "Please, feed me, master."

It was so much better with Lotor's fingers.

"Don't be greedy, Pet." Lotor scolded. "Now be a good Pet, Sweet Sharpshooter. Swallow my cum. Don't let a drop go to waste."

Lance squirmed on the ground, cum dripping down his throat. "P—Please, Master, My Prince."

Lotor growled. "Learn to behave yourself, or I'll cum in your ass for a week, where you'll never see it, much less taste it."

Lance cried. He swallowed some of what was in his mouth, desperate for his master's hand. He scooped some of the thick off his neck, depositing it on his tongue for Lotor to see, when he swallowed, leaving thin strips dangling down his lips.

Lotor couldn't help himself. He bent down, sucking all of the cum off his perfect pet's nipples, the small thing splayed out on the floor him. He moved up, combining his collection with his pet's open mouth. Lance sucked the cum off his master's tongue... The urge to sleep finally taking over as he swallowed the last drop.


	11. Chapter 11

**Keith**

* * *

Keith felt the blood drain from his body when he heard the news.

"I'm telling you, human. Our spy was assigned to Lotor's personal detail a week ago about a security risk. She saw them in the training deck together."

Keith clenched his jaw. "And Lotor was—Lotor raped Lance?"

The masked Blade of Marmora nodded. "Keith... He raped him in the cells the day after he captured him. He raped him several times."

"Why didn't she inform us that he was hurting him?" Keith asked. His emotions shining through his voice, like they always did. "No, no. Why didn't she at least feel the need to tell us the Red Paladin was in Lotor's custody?"

"She didn't know that risk was your friend Lance until yesterday."

Keith's blood boiled. He had never imagined...

Keith never realized that getting abused in that way was an option. Keith knew getting killed, captured, tortured, maybe even dissected was a possibility. But raped?

Keith had never entertained the possibility that someone would want to take their own pleasure at the expense of someone's body—at the expense of their sanity.

How could you actually hold someone down...

Keith turned to the side, finding the nearest disposal bin and vomited. When he looked up, his hair was covering his eyes, but he could see Kolivan giving him that look.

"I—I want to go," Keith pleaded with him. "I want to be on that mission."

Kolivan's expression was unreadable. It usually was—but Keith could usually gage his level of disappointment, determination, or contentment.

Keith got nothing from him.

Then, Kolivan spoke, "The more connected you are, the more you have to control your emotions."

Keith clutched his fists. He was sick of Kolivan getting on him about his emotions. Keith was Galra, he wasn't supposed to be calm.

"Is that why you're just standing there?" Keith asked.

Kolivan remained still as a statue. "I'm concerned for you."

"Then how is hiding it better?!" Keith yelled.

Kolivan dismissed the informant.

"No!" Keith demanded, throwing his hair out of his face. "Stay. What else did she see? What did Lance say to him? How much trouble is he in?"

The Galra looked confused. "In trouble?"

Keith nodded. "Yes. It's Lance. You know he said some dumb shit to make it worse."

The Galra stayed very quiet.

"Hello?" Keith demanded.

"Whatever it is, tell him," Kolivan ordered. "Let's get this done."

"Our spy believes Lance is not far from giving his consent."

Kolivan's shoulders pinched. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," The Galra said. "She says it's only a matter of time before he gives in."

When Keith spoke again, his voice was cracked and dry. "His consent to what?"

Kolivan looked right at him, his 'concern' for Keith—if that's what it was—shining through his eyes. "Gear up, Paladin. We need Voltron. I'll explain everything."


	12. Chapter 12

**Keith**

* * *

Keith waited patiently until he knew it was safe for him to go in. The Blade knew fully well that they alone could not rescue Lance, neither did Kolivan feel the need to rescue the blue Paladin was as pressing as Keith did, so he allowed him to stand by Shiro once again.

Keith's grip tightened on his controls, both he and Red eager to storm in and rip the base apart.

Keith could feel Red's fear and urgency, something they both shared.

"Pidge?" Keith asked for the tenth time.

"We're almost there. I can feel Green."

"Get your Lion back... Red and I found Lance ages ago..."

"Keith," Shiro scolded. "You have to be patient. We all want Lance back. Stay locked on his location, we'll get him soon."

Keith waited. And waited. He kept waiting until he heard Allura whispering over their systems. "Okay. I got Pidge inside. Just in time—this cloaking won't hide blue for much longer."

"So get out of there," Keith ordered. "Pidge can handle herself."

"Keith, no," Shiro growled.

"I need blue by my side, Shiro. Allura, leave."

Shiro growled. "We've discussed this. Allura. Stay with Pidge."

Keith felt Red growling with him.

"You've fought Zarkon," Keith mumbled bitterly.

No one responded. Shiro kept his silence for a full minute before speaking.

"But I couldn't fight Lotor. I know, I blame myself too. Happy?" Shiro hissed.

"No,"

"Then what do you want from me?" Shiro yelled.

"Nothing."

I shouldn't have left. Keith thought.

"You think you could've saved him."

Yes. Keith thought. "No."

Red's instincts surged through Keith, their urge to jump after Lance combined into one irresistible impulse.

Lance was closer now. He was closer than he was earlier. Closer. Closer.

... Closer.

"Shiro," Keith warned.

"That's enough, Keith!"

Keith felt a panic surge through Red. Lance was moving away. Now.

He—They had to act now.

"The Shiro who raised me never would've let Lance go."

Red and Keith surged forward, barrelling to Lance, fully content to bust through the walls of the ship until Red had Lance in her jaw.

Keith didn't know if it was the shock of his last words or the adrenaline in his veins, but he didn't hear a word of protest from the team.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Lance**

* * *

Lance's life became a blur of breathlessness and mild terror. Lotor made good on his promise, spending every day learning something about Lance and his body every time he yielded.

Like how Lance's anus, prostate, and inner walls were more sensitive than most humans. And how Lance's neck wasn't as sensitive as other humans. And how Lance's mouth was more sensitive than most humans. And how his nipples were less sensitive...

And so on and so forth.

Lotor made an effort to kiss his mouth more; his neck, less. Lotor no longer punched Lance's nipples, he slapped his ass.

Lance was so overwhelmed and overstimulated that he begged whatever god would listen to free him.

Lotor had left Lance in his quarters, a blank room with a bed and a lock that Lotor could bypass. Lance sat on his bed, wondering when their next fight would be. Lance knew he should stretch out and warm up his body for it—both the combat and the sex—but he was so damn exhausted.

Then Lotor came in.

Lance stood to attention, awaiting orders from his instructor.

But his instructor looked pissed. He looked downright murderous. "Time to eat, pet."

Lance held his breath. "L—Lotor—"

"It's master, pet."

Lance sobbed, kneeling on the floor. He thought about on the castle, when Lotor decided they'd be practicing drawing by fire—Lance knew something had pissed him off because he wanted to hurt Lance.

Lance knelt to the ground, wiping the tears from his face. Lance hadn't called Lotor master since that incident on the training deck... When Lotor and he discovered that Lotor's cum doubled as a human aphrodisiac.

It was the only time Lotor called him 'pet.' It was the only time Lance called him master.

And they hadn't done it since.

When Lotor discovered Lance had drugged himself on his cum, he went quiet. Lance laid curled up on Lotor's bed, begging for more as the lights got brighter and his body hotter. If he could only eat, fuck, and drink...

Lance didn't want to. So Lance knelt down to the ground, not as an offering, but as a plea.

"Please, My Prince..." Lance hoped that by calling Lotor that he would change the man's mind, but he didn't.

"Enough pet," Lotor demanded.

Lance hugged his stomach. "What about training?"

"No," Lotor growled.

"Lotor..." Lance looked up, Lotor stroking his face. "Please. I want to be me..."

"It'll be okay, my pet,"

Lance whimpered.

"You won't care soon enough."

Lance put his hands on Lotor's thighs. Lotor's erection was pushing through his undersuit, an inch from Lance's face.

"Won't you? Don't you want me?" Lance attempted.

Lotor knelt down by Lance stroking his face. "Yes, my Paladin, but I have no choice."

"No, no," Lance protested. "I can be your pet. I won't talk, I promise. I'll beg you for it, but let me be me. I thought you wanted me when I'm me."

Lotor pressed his nose to Lance's hair, sniffing hard. "I want you, Lance. My Lance. My... mine. But there's something I have to do. It's either me or—or..."

Lotor pulled Lance away by his hair, slamming his lips down on his, kissing him hard and passionately, without his tongue.

When Lotor pulled away, Lance leaned in, his body following him. He sucked in a breath of fresh air, the sugary scent of Lotor still lingering on his body. "Or what? Or... Who?"

"Lance, look at me."

"I am."

"Look."

Lance did. He looked harder into Lotor's terrified eyes. He looked at the man who trained him and kidnapped him and made love to him.

"I'm sorry," Lotor said.

Lance opened his mouth, thinking about the millions of times he begged Lotor. How many times had Lotor beat him, molested him, or kissed him on the castle after Lance begged him for mercy? Lance hadn't dared to ask for a reprieve since being taken to this ship.

Yeah, in the early days, he cried and prayed—trying to get Lotor to take him back to the castle. Not anymore. Lance was never going back.

Lance traced the scar on his face, the one on his right cheekbone.

Lotor's eyes followed the movement. He kissed along the scar, tracing it with his lips. "I'm sorry about that too."

"What're you going to do to me?" Lance asked.

Lotor kissed Lance on the lips, a quick peck. He ran his hands up and down Lance's arms. "Nothing I wasn't going to do already, but it's too soon. I don't want to risk losing you too early."

Lance felt his heart slow down.

"Do you think you can take it?" Lotor asked softly.

Lance shook his head, reminding himself that Lotor wanted him to be honest with him. He could tell if Lance was lying, but he couldn't tell if he was keeping secrets.

Lotor wanted Lance to tell him about this stuff.

"No, I can't," Lance sobbed. No way.

If Lotor thought he couldn't handle it, he couldn't handle it.

Lotor kissed him. "Good, it'll be over soon."

Lance looked into his eyes, he wasn't going to win. He wasn't going to talk Lotor out of it. Lance found that little scrap of guilt in Lotor's eyes and held onto it, clutching Lotor's biceps. "Promise?"

Lotor's hand caressed the back of Lance's head. "No."

Lotor grabbed Lance's hair and forced a gasp from the Paladin's throat. Lotor stood, keeping the Paladin on his knees. He let go by throwing his hand down, making Lance collapse by Lotor's feet. "Bring your Master out."

Lance pulled himself to his knees, shaking like a wet dog.

Lance brought his hands up only to find Lotor's cock already freed, hanging out in the air, completely soft and flaccid.

So Lotor wasn't getting off in this. Not yet.

Lance cried, his body shaking as he sobbed. His breathing became louder and less controlled as he tried to bring Lotor to life with his mouth. He'd never felt the member soft, Lotor was always ready for him. The skin was spongy, almost. Lance felt like he was sucking on a roll of paper towels.

As Lance stopped crying, focusing on the task, Lotor's cock began to harden. The spongy flesh began to smoothen out and harden into its plates.

Lotor groaned and placed his hands on Lance's head. Lotor didn't force him, he just encouraged him to move. When Lance became overwhelmed, he stopped. Lotor didn't force him to continue. He just whispered under his breath. "I know. I know. It'll be okay... I'll still be here."

Lance looked up, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"I'm not going anywhere, Lance. I'll still be myself," Lotor hummed.

Lance sobbed, going back to work on the cock.

He knew he was screwed when he tasted blueberries. Or was it blackberries? Lance wrapped his tongue around the flesh, trying to collect the taste of sweet, sugary fruit.

Lotor's precum lined Lance's mouth, making him dizzy. The hardened flesh felt so good. It was so smooth in his mouth.

Lance was able to locate the source of the taste. Lotor's Galra pee hole was large enough for Lance to dip his tongue into, but not far.

Lance dug his tongue in, relishing the taste. He brought his tongue out and swirled his tongue around the head, swallowing Lotor until the head hit his throat.

Lance didn't take him farther and Lotor didn't make him.

Lance pulled back off and found more cum to taste, dipping his tongue into the hole and out until he no longer had the presence of mind to coax it out.

Lance rubbed the base of Lotor's cock, trying to milk out the cum. He was too desperate, trying too hard.

How did this happen? Lance watched himself from a locked room inside his own head. He was sucking hungrily on the head.

"Goodbye, my Lance."

Lance pulled his mouth off the head, opening his jaw as a small spurt of sticky white cum shot onto his tongue. Lance sucked it eagerly, breaking it up by squishing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Even though his mouth was closed, he pressed his lips to the head, feeling the fresh cum covering his lips.

Lotor grabbed Lance's head groaning loudly. It was the same cry that he released when he came on the castle, Lance paralyzed beneath him. The cry was just as restricted and pain-filled as it had been then.

Then the cum came and Lance wanted to drown in it. Lance groaned, his cock getting strangled to death in his suit, but he didn't care. He felt the shots of cum coat his throat, teeth, and tongue. It dripped down his chin and drizzled on his neck.

Lance was letting out flustered and strangled moans as he tried to swallow the fluid. His vision didn't change and neither did his hearing. He didn't feel more sensitive.

The effects of the drug were mental, consuming Lance, not with desire, but hunger. He wanted to run his tongue and teeth over that thick Galra cock, kissing and sucking around the base to get what he wanted.

He didn't know who Lotor was, he just saw his master. That cock and those fingers. Lance closed his eyes, leaning his head back and letting the cum slide down his throat. He could feel his Master's hands on his throat.

Lance opened his eyes, looking at the large purple thumb coated in clear slick. Lance devoured it, his eyes closed, the taste in his mouth.

Lotor pumped the thumb in his mouth. Lance whimpered when Lotor pulled his thumb out. Lance leaned back in, taking in the next helping. It wasn't until Lance's pants had turned into borderline screams that he realized there was no more cum.

Lance leaned forward and licked at Lotor's exposed neck. He moved down, ignoring Lotor's protests and hands trying to pull him off.

Lance ripped the fabric away from Lotor's cock and felt his body lunge for the base of his cock. This was where Lotor loved it. This was what got Lotor hard. Lance kissed and sucked and licked. Lotor's hands stopped trying to gently prod Lance away and started to stroke his pet's hair.

Lance worshiped his master's cock until it started to turn into hard plates. Lance started to kiss his way to the tip of Lotor's shaft. Lance's stomach swirled and jumped as he tasted it again.

He needed more.

But Lotor pulled him away. Lotor clothed his cock and reactivated his belt. Lance mewled.

Lotor cuffed his hands and kissed his forehead.

Lance wanted to cry and beg, but he took deep breaths. Lotor wasn't done. He couldn't be done. Lotor put a blindfold over Lance's eyes, ripping him to his feet.

He dragged him down the hall, Lance following blindly. The sooner they got there, surely Lance's master would feed him again.

Lance's hands were raised above his head. He was strung up, his feet not touching the floor. Lance had to throw his head back to breathe. Lotor peeled his clothes off, leaving him naked.

Lotor put a ring around Lance's cock. Lance didn't feel a difference. He was so hard already. What he did feel, however, was the ribbed metal pushed into his urethra. That hurt more.

Lance didn't see any of the tools Lotor used—or use the name for them—but he felt them.

Lotor placed a strap-based harness around his upper chest. Lance could feel the rings of metal around his nipples. Lotor inserted a plug in his ass, then did something to it that widened it more, sticking his finger in through what was apparently a ring, then put it back. Then, Lotor attached some chains to the ring in his ass, clipping around his ankles. Lance was forced to bend his legs all the way, feeling pain every time he pulled on the restraints.

"For now, I'll tie those up for you," Lotor explained. "Don't make me remove them."

Lotor applied straps that held his ankles to his thighs. Then Lotor attached Lance's cock ring to a collar and tightened it.

Lance was so overwhelmed with all of the straps and chains. A thin layer of swear was coating his body.

Lotor placed two clamps on Lance's nipples, making him tense.

Lance screamed as a new sensation flooded his body, making him tense and shake and sweat from the pain in his nipples. The collar tugged on his cock. Lance tossed and jerked, tugging on the plug.

The more Lance jerked, the more pain he felt, so he thrashed more. "Lotor! Help!"

Lotor held him still, forcing him to hold still as he strained until the pain stopped. Lotor removed the straps holding Lance's ankles to his thighs.

"Now," Lotor began. "Leave us, witch."

The next words Lance heard didn't come from Lotor's mouth. "I wish to oversee your interrogation."

"No," Lotor snarled. "I made a deal with my father. I will break him and this is how I chose. You will not be present as I punish my—I won't allow it."

"I can access his truthfulness."

"I can do that on my own, you witch."

Lance sobbed. "Lo—Lotor?"

The room went silent.

Haggar growled. "You see? You can't possibly be objective with your love in so much pain."

Lance swallowed, his head starting to hurt. "Lotor?"

The room froze again, time moving so much slower without sight. "Leave, witch. I will get the information you want."

A few minutes later, Lotor spoke again. His voice was softer, but stern. "Now, Paladin."

Lance flinched. Not My Paladin? Not Sweet Paladin?

"Tell me everything you know about the last Voltron attack."


	14. Chapter 14

**Lotor**  

* * *

The first thing Lotor had to do was get Lance in pieces. Lance needed to be desperate and afraid. Only then would Lotor be sure that he was honest. As good as Lotor was at detecting lies, he was no magician. He may have trained himself to detect inaccuracies, but there was only so far that could take him. So, if Lance were to be defenseless, tired, and terrifies, his true emotions would shine through.

Drugging Lance helped—but that drug had to be wearing off now, Lotor could feel it. It had been too long. Approaching Lance in his room had been terrifying. Lotor didn't want to hurt Lance—not really. Lotor wanted to show Lance what you could to with pain, yes, but he did not want to punish him. Lance hadn't done anything to deserve it.

Lotor just needed him to be strong enough. Sometimes, no matter how much Lotor wanted to spoil Lance, he had to punish him. Lance had to be punished. And, it was times like this—when Voltron had attacked and the high priestess was forcing his hand—that Lotor neede Lance to be strong for him.

He needed Lance to take the pain so Lotor wouldn't have to take the guilt.

Lotor eyed his Prince, strapped and plugged and hanging from the ceiling. Thick cuffs held him up, turning the tender flesh beneath into bruises. Lance's entire body rocked, desperately trying to end the assault on his asshole as his ankles tugged on the attached chain.

It was beautiful, in its own way. Lance had to hold his feet up if he wanted to spare his ass the torment. If exhaustion got to him, so would gravity. Lance thrashed in his chains, trying so hard to alleviate the throbbing sensations. It was awful and beautiful and inevitable.

Lotor no longer felt the desire to hold Lance still so he could recover. That worry and desire passed hours ago. Lotor had let his generosity show enough today. He'd hold Lance's legs to his thighs—letting him relax his ass and muscles. But Lotor couldn't afford to do that anymore. That first hour was rough, yes. But Lance had to understand it now. Lance was no longer a stranger to the sensations.

Lotor had been completely prepared to walk Lance through this, at first. He was ready to start asking his questions about ninety minutes ago, but Lance held out so god damn well Lotor couldn't help himself. He wanted to push Lance's limits. He wanted to see how much he could take.

Lance's dick had gone from a swollen pink to purple to blue, fighting the Galra technology, trying to come under the influence of Lotor drug—of all the sensations inside him.

Lotor grew hard, his erection pulsing in the open air, hanging outside his Galra uniform. Lance couldn't see that, though. He was wearing a blindfold. Lotor had trapped him in darkness a long time ago. Lance's smooth skin was dripping with sweat as he struggled on the chain. All Lance had to do was hold his ankles to his thighs and the pain would stop, but he lacked the strength.

Lotor thought he should let Lance down again so his human lungs could heal, but he hadn't been up long since his last break. Lance could wait.

As Lotor looked at Lance, thrashing on a chain, strangled groans being torn from his throat, he knew he was ready—that he would be honest now. But Lotor needed to do more. He was no longer performing a proper interrogation—this was a proper punishment from a husband. This was how Galra owners punished their partners for misbehaving... It was highly inappropriate, as Lance had not given his consent... But Lotor owned him. Lotor wanted him. And Lotor was so pissed after the Paladins came and recaptured the Green Lion...

Haggar suspected that Lance must know something about it. Lotor denied it. He had been convinced Lance knew nothing. After all, Lotor made sure to cut him off from everything. Lance didn't see the other prisoners anymore. The only living guards Lance ever saw were Lotor's—the private detail he was forced to add due to the risk of containing a Paladin in close quarters.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

He was so pissed off by the idea that Lance might know that he was punishing him properly. Lance went quiet long ago as if he knew he did something wrong. He stopped fighting, as he always did. Yes, that was what Lotor wanted, but it was uncharacteristic of Lance. Lance's body started to rack and jerk, his throat gurgling.

Lotor lowered him, sending a shock through Lance's nipples as he hit the floor. Lance screamed, then went still as his chest heaved. Lotor returned to his routine. Just because Lance was getting a break from being strung up—did not mean he was done with the pain.

Lotor stuck the inflatable and ribbed Galra vibrator back in Lance's ass. It fit snugly in its slim state, but it was designed for a Galra, not a human. Lotor inflated it until he watched Lance's face gasp—meaning the item was pressing against his walls. Then, Lotor grew it just a bit more, shoving the ribbed surface into Lance's overly sensitive asshole.

Lance's sensitivity in his mouth and ass was exquisite. Lotor could fuck him senseless easily. He could finger him into oblivion and tongue fuck an orgasm from his body. And when Lance sucked Lotor's cock, Lotor could tell he loved the way Lotor's member rubbed his insides. Lance's moans weren't only satisfaction from pleasing his owner, they were genuine enjoyment. Those were Lance's born qualities. Born to take a cock.

Unfortunately, there were some places where Lotor wished he could relish in that same sensitivity. Like his nipples, for example. Those small nubs protruded from Lance's chest, begging Lotor to bite and pinch until they were swollen and hypersensitive. And his neck... Lotor got so hard by the thought of Lance moaning as he sucked his most vulnerable place. But that wasn't a reality.

With Lance's consent, Lotor had complete power over him. Complete permission to do anything and everything he wanted. He wouldn't have to go through his father for permission—not like he did last time, when it turned out Lance's humanity was just... a little incompatible with Lotor. With Lance's Consent, he could fix him up for real. Perhaps he could add some lubrication to his ass as well...

Lotor turned the vibrate on high and forced Lance onto his back. Lance groaned as he found himself resting on the floor, his knees bent underneath him so that the chains wouldn't tug.

Lotor extracted the Penis plug, listening to Lance grunt and gurgle beautifully as he did. Lance's cock started to relax, enjoying the sensation of freedom. The ring was still there, but his canal was open. Lotor watched in awe as smooth, white liquid beaded out of Lance's cock. Lance moaned, his lungs expanding shakily as he tried to get release.

Lotor grabbed a longer plug. He held a thirty-five-centimeter skinny plug, designed only a few hours ago just for Lance—designed to inflict pain. Lotor wondered what it felt like—it was designed for his length. All thirty-five earth centimeters to match Lotor's fourteen human inches. But Lance... He wouldn't be able to take it. It was an empty threat.

Lotor ripped the blindfold off, exposing Lance's watering eyes to the soft light. He still flinched away from their intensity.

Lance looked at Lotor pleadingly, not daring to speak a word. Lotor had punished him harshly for speaking—effectively silencing his begging nearly two hours ago. No matter how hard Lance begged, Lotor would not listen. He told Lance: he was no longer Lotor's, he was the property of the Galra empire and would be treated as such. Lance's pleas fell on dead ears. No matter how much he tried, he would never get what he wanted.

Lotor grabbed the cage, perfectly designed for Lance's hardened member and trapped it. Lotor flipped some switches and deactivated the nipple clamps. He removed them and marveled at lance's chest. His otherwise brown areolas had turned purple and black. Lotor placed hard metal massagers and had them beat down sharply and quickly against Lance's tortured nubs.

Lotor could see the pain in Lance's eyes, but it didn't affect him. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because Lotor knew Lance was in his place. And soon, the interrogation would end and Lance would fall into Lotor's arms—his body spent but willing.

Lotor held up the plug, it's end was topped off with a small rod with two large balls on the end of it. Lotor spun it like a screw, watching Lance's eyes fill with horror as the rod stretched and expanded.

Lotor secretly designed it that way so that he could insert it in himself, expand it to stay, then wreak havoc on Lance's ass with the solid knobs. He'd read about what Sendak could do with his dick piercing, a rod straight through the head, but he wasn't willing to do that to himself. He was only prepping for his interrogation with Lance when he had the idea—a tool to do it for him.

But for now... Lance didn't know that he couldn't take this full length. He didn't know Lotor intended it for himself. He only saw what it was and pictured what it might do.

"Now, you have my permission to talk, slave," Lotor voice was coarse and aroused.

Lance swallowed roughly, coughing and sputtering as the machines tormented his body—the vibrator digging the ribs in his ass and the plates punching his nipples.

"Yes... P—Prince Lotor."

Lotor smiled. "Do you see what this is?"

"... Y—Yes, Prince Lotor."

Lotor turned it on Lance, shrinking it as skinny as it could go and poking in the first inch.

Lance tried to thrash, but Lotor held him still. He squealed, high pitched and beautiful. "Please, Your Highness, I'll answer anything!"

Lotor turned the knob, making it thicker.

"I'll tell you—Ah!" Lance let his head fall back on the ground. "Lotor, Please—uh, uh—ah!"

"I am not 'your' Lotor!" Lotor pushed it in another centimeter.

Lance squirmed and screamed, eyeing the rest of the length with dread in his eyes. "Your Highness, you know I am telling the truth—I know you can tell. I'll tell you—gah—everything."

Lotor looked back and Lance, assessing the slave's words. He was showing all the right markers. He was being truthful.

"Good. I better not see you hesitate," Lotor threatened.

Lance nodded. "Yes! Okay! Prince Lotor."  
  
"What do you know about the Voltron attack?"

Lance gasped as Lotor tugged on the plug. "Wh—N—Nothing."

Lotor frowned. Once again, the answer he wanted. But that wasn't going to be helpful. He needed the Green Lion back.

"How did they get onboard?" Lotor asked, pushing it in further.

"I don't—I don't know!"

Lotor frowned. Lance was telling the truth.

"Were you aware of the Voltron attack?" Lotor demanded.

"No!" Lance screamed, his eyes closed. "Only now—because—by you, My Prince."

"I am not your Prince!" Lotor pushed it in further.

Lance cried out. "Yes, My Prince. I wouldn't betray you... You know I didn't."

Lotor turned the speed on the nipple plates up.

"Ugh—You know I didn't!" Lance screamed.

Lotor looked at his Prince, writhing on the floor from hours of torture. Torture that now seemed completely unnecessary. Because Lance didn't know. That was a problem. Lotor told Lance he could sense lies. Why torture someone when you can just ask them? Lotor was already designing his cover.

"End it, My Prince," Lance begged.

Lotor wanted to slap him. He wanted to slap him for every time Lance begged to get out of punishment on the castle 'just once'. He wanted to slap him for every time he begged for it to end early.

Lance always made it sound like Lotor had a choice.

But now... Lotor did. If he didn't end it, he might lose Lance forever. It was too soon for Lance to undergo this level of punishment. This was a punishment for someone who gave their consent years prior. Lotor was risking actually losing the young human.

But if he made a deal with Lance... If he apologized...

"Listen, my sweet Lance," Lotor kissed Lance's exposed thigh. "I will end it. But you can never ask me to. You can't. You absolutely cannot. But I'm finished. I'm sorry I had to do this... Haggar would not allow..."

Lance looked at Lotor pleadingly, relief and fear in his eyes.

"So I have to show you why you can never do that again," Lotor kissed his thigh again, looking right into Lance's terrified blue eyes. "But I will do this: I'll make it quick."

Lance sobbed. "Lotor... You can end it now. You can."

"What did I just say?!" Lotor screamed.

Lance flinched, crying out. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can take it—I can take it!"

Lotor relaxed, silently begging Lance to mean it.

"I can take this for you, My Prince."

Lotor sighed. There it was. That was the point. Lotor had no choice but to hurt Lance and the guilt would eat him alive—but Lance could take it for him. If Lance could submit for Lotor, they could survive.

Lotor kissed his Prince's thigh, pressing into the skin and inhaling Lance's sweaty scent. Through the skin on Lance's leg, Lotor could feel the vibrations from the toys inside his lover.

Lotor turned them off, freeing Lance's nipples to the air as the plates fell off, revealing more swollen, splotchy bruises. Lotor licked each once, forcing a gasp from Lance. "Ah—Ow! Ahhh..."

Lotor turned off the toy in Lance's ass, letting it deflate and pulled it from Lance's body.

Lotor removed Lance's collar—taking the connecting chain to his cock and wrapping it around his hand. He removed every strap from Lance's body and watched the young man whine as his ass painfully tried to close after being pried open so long. Lotor pulled Lance's hands back up, forcing him to suspend with his legs bend, his knees just an inch off the floor.

Now Lance was strung up by his wrists, the only toys on him the cage and the ring attached to the end of Lotor's chain. It was simple, still beautiful. It probably felt like a huge break after everything he'd been through. But now Lance could focus on the plug.

Lotor pulled on that chain, dragging Lance's torso closer. Lotor thinned the plug, making eye contact with Lance before he started.

Lance moaned as Lotor pushed the plug in more, his oversensitive and caged member responding as the metal ridges scratched his insides where they had never felt pressure. Lotor moved slow and steady until he reached the marker on the plug that said he was done. He had the creators mark where Lance's limits where so he didn't hurt the young Prince.

Lotor spun the knob, expanding the rod inside until he reached the second marker for Lance's limits. When Lotor looked up, Lance had his jaw clenched and was screaming through his throat. Lance opened his eyes and sighed when he realized Lotor was finished.

It took Lotor a minute to realize Lance was whispering. Lotor leaned in.

"Please, please, please, please..."

Lotor kissed his Prince, touching his tongue and teeth gently. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes, please, I'm sorry, please—"

"This is going to hurt so much more, My Prince."

Lotor froze. Lance looked at him gently through closed eyes. Lotor realized he had yet to call Lance his Prince our loud.

"Your—"

Lotor ripped out the plug quickly—without turning the thickness down. Lance cried out and thrashed until his head rolled onto his shoulders.

* * *

Lance awoke slowly, watching Lotor from his hospital bed. Lotor carried him through the halls, laying him on his own bed in his quarters. "You have been released from the Galra as their property."

Lance blinked, staring at Lotor from the bed, still groggy. "Thank you."

Lotor crawled on top of him, doing everything he could to keep his Galra weight off of him. "I had nothing to do with it. I just made sure no one else would hurt you."

Lance shook his head with a sigh.

"Oh, Lance," Lotor purred. "My Lance."

Lance poems his blue eyes, staring up at Lotor from the bed.

"Lotor? Can I ask about... What happened?"

Lotor sighed, kissing Lance's chest. "I'm sorry, but—no."

"Lotor..."

Lotor looked back at Lance, seeing the resistance in his eyes. "Don't. Stop now, while you can."

Lance shook slightly underneath him. "I—I need to tell you something. It's important."

Lotor grabbed his arm, forcing it from its comfortable setting by Lance's side to a spot underneath his back. Lance grunted as he did so, squirming against the pain.

"You said you knew nothing."

"My Prince—"

"Lance?!"

"I told the truth!" Lance gasped. "You know I did."

Lotor released Lance's arm and let him catch his breath. "Just—Stay Quiet, Lance. Relax."

"Lotor, please—"

Lotor grabbed Lance's sides roughly, watching the boy flinch and scream as Lotor ripped him from his comfortable spot on the bed to a position sitting in Lotor's lap.

"Stay quiet."

"It's important," Lance gasped, dizzy from the sudden movement after getting out of the hospital.

Lotor grabbed him one more time, his rage firing up as he threw Lance onto the floor. Lance landed on his stomach, his arms and legs sprawled out.

Lotor went to retrieve something of his from a metal chest against the wall. "Stay put!"

Lance whimpered. "I'm sorry, sorry... But it's important, Lotor—"

Lotor grabbed the device and sprinted back over to Lance, ripping his head back by his hair. "How are you still talking?" He ordered him to stop!

Lance whimpered. "My Prince, you have to know—"

Lance seemed to realize what device Lotor was holding. It was his Galra muzzle, the same one Lotor had put on him after their first time together.

"Please, no," Lance begged as Lotor started to apply it. "I won't say anything—I'll stop. Just~hm!"

Lotor moved to face Lance's front, looking into his eyes. He could tell by the way his eyes flickered that Lance was fucking speaking in the muzzle—saying his piece with no punishment from Lotor.

Lotor growled.

Lance froze, silencing himself even though no one could hear him. Lotor began to strip of Lance's clothes, scolding him as he did. "Why do you always defy me? You always try to 'just' do something—if that's making me stop or end it or just to speak when I've told you that you don't have permission."

Lance sat there naked, his body in much better condition. He closed his eyes as Lotor began to undress.

Lotor grabbed Lance by his arms and dragged him back to the bed, sitting him on top of Lotor's lap so he could face him.

"Oh, young Lance..." Lotor sighed, disappointed. "After everything I have done for you. After the time we've spent together... And still, you fail to see how perfect it could be with your consent."

Lotor didn't look into Lance's eyes. He had no interest in gauging the boy's reactions. Lotor inserted his middle finger into Lance's tight, newly repaired hole. He pumped him quickly, impatiently stretching him for Lotor's member.

Some days, Lotor loved prepping Lance. He loved listening to the sounds Lance made as Lotor tormented him with his fingers, adding gel as the boy begged for relief...

But Lotor couldn't hear those pretty sounds, and he was eager to show Lance how amazing it could be if he only had his consent. He skipped the long, repetitive minutes of opening Lance up. If he had his way, lance would be fixed there too.

Lotor prepped Lance quickly and messily. He used way more lube than necessary, but he the boy was ready.

Lotor guided Lance's pretty ass onto his cock, Lance's tight hole putting up little resistance before giving in. Lotor felt Lance' shole slowly swell, enveloping his head in a tight, sweet warmth. Lotor stared at Lance's eyes, pinched shut, as his poorly prepped hole felt what Lotor had to offer. Lotor pushed him down more, slowly filling in insides, parting his walls and burning Lance with the stretch. Lotor grabbed Lance by the shoulders, pushing him back onto his cock, slowly, until Lance was sitting on his fist. Lotor moved his hand, freeing the rest of his cock for Lance. Lotor clutched Lance's waist and eased him down, filling him to the brim.

Lotor held Lance's waist to him, watching as the boy arched his back as Lotor bottomed out. Lance clung desperately to Lotor's shoulders. Lotor smiled at the gesture. Usually, Lance's hands were bound by rope or pinned down by Lotor. This was much nicer.

Lotor began to move the little human, bouncing him on his plump cock. Lotor intentionally drove his member into every nook and cranny within Lance that he knew made him keen.

Lotor could see the pleasure on Lance's face. Lance squirmed and quivered as Lotor fed his sweetly sensitive ass his thick cock, the head creating a little bump in his stomach everytime the skin of their legs and hips met.

Lotor cursed. Lance was so perfect for him. It wasn't just that their size difference allowed Lance's little hole to be tight for Lotor's cock, it was that his entire lithe frame allowed Lotor to move him around or take him in any way he pleased.

Lance was built for him.

When Lotor approached Lance's beautiful self that long month ago, he was simply targeting the most beautiful being in the castle to relieve his frustrations. But now... Back in Galra command, but with Lance in his custody, it was worth the trade of Lotor's own freedom. He hadn't expected to fall for the Paladin.

Lotor hadn't prepared for his intelligence or slight defiance. Lotor had a love/hate relationship with Lance's resistance—now, at that moment, with Lance writhing as he bounced on his owner's cock, massaging it beautifully—Lotor decided he loved it again.

Lance's entire body tensed, going rigid in Lotor's arms. Lotor realized it was much easier to abuse the Paladin like this, but Lance was holding something back. His body slowly tensed, despite Lotor's soothing pace.

"You want to come?" Lotor asked, surprised by the huskiness and lack of control in his own voice. "Nothing's stopping you. Come with just my dick."

Lance hesitated, then finished with several waves of unsteady and unpredictable jerks.

Lotor held his limp body, fucking the human through his finish, slowly bringing him back to life. For a moment, Lance struggled with it, he jerked and flinched as Lotor fucked his spent hole. Lotor would have to find out why. Perhaps he was more sensitive after his finish? Didn't matter. Lance was still high on Lotor's cum, so Lotor needed to fuck it out of his system. Lance slowly started to respond, his body once again reacting to Lotor's slow and steady pace.

Of course, Lotor knew that he could wreck the human if he set the pace faster, but he realized long ago that it was much easier, more pleasant to fuck him slowly, hitting the right place every time as he controlled the moment. Soon, Lance began to rock his hips, adding one extra movement to when Lotor connected their waists. Lotor didn't stop him. The additional sensation was amazing.

Lance came again, his cock spurting human cum all over their chests. Lotor didn't bother to clean it up, he kept going.

Lotor continued this game for a little over an hour, watching Lance's body go more and more limp with each orgasm ripped from his body.

Lotor drove him there, slow and steady. He loved the feeling of Lance's tight walls gripping and rubbing against Lotor's firm cock. Soon, it had been enough and Lotor's cock responded to the constant stimulation. The smooth plates on the head of Lotor's member flowered, pushing out the ends at the base of his tip, ensuring that Lance could never escape him.

Lance tensed at the feeling, slowly making his peace with the new sensation as Lotor's plates rubbed Lance's walls with more strength. They stretched his walls more—massaging him harder. Lance started to twitch. His bronze skin gleaming from sweat and cum. Lance started to shake his head. He jerked his body and wet his face with tears. Lance wanted it to stop, the assault on his ass had been continuous and unforgiving. But it wasn't painful—Lotor knew that. Lance was twitching and clutching his skin; toes curling and feet cramping.

Lotor wanted to show Lance that he could make him feel good. He needed to prove to Lance that there were sensations beyond him that only Lotor could unlock.

Lotor continued until he realized he couldn't hold it in anymore. This wasn't like fucking Lance roughly on the training deck, his body responded to the gentle pace, is member lasting much longer and even expanding inside his mate—something Lotor had never been able to do before. Even his body knew this time was different.

If only Lotor could hear Lance's sweet moans. If lance hadn't ruined it...

Lotor grabbed onto Lance so hard he scared the sweet human, but Lance soon realized what as happening. Lance tensed his ass the way he did in the prison cells, tightening every time Lotor pulled out and relaxing every time he pushed back in. It was working. Lance really knew how to work him.

Lotor came with one continuous blast, unlike the human, who always came in waves of varying power. Lotor emptied his Galra seed into Lance's human body, fucking him the whole time. When Lotor was done, he wanted to lay down and sleep, but he noticed Lance's pulsing member against his stomach.

Still planted firmly inside Lance's ass, Lotor rubbed his cock until he came with a tightening grip of his hands and ass, throwing his head back.

Lotor pulled out of Lance, stroking the human's back. Lotor's cum stayed firmly deposited in Lance's ass, the texture too sticky and thick to slide out—not yet. It would clutch Lance's walls for days before Lance's system absorbed it all.

Lotor—fucking—owned—him.

Lotor rung for the guards and Lance closed his eyes, melting into Lotor's chest. Lotor hesitated, looking at Lance's tired body on top of his. Lance seemed so complacent. Why wouldn't he be? He'd finished so many times. Lotor was cradling him gently. The assault was over.

But Lotor couldn't hear Lance moan the entire time. Lotor's best time—his favorite, by far—and Lance ruined it by disobeying his orders.

"Take him away," He ordered bitterly.

Lance jerked his head back in shock, trying once again to speak through the muzzle. Lotor glared at him, watching him pull away. Lance should've offered his consent.

The minute Lance felt the guards hands on him, he panicked, clawing at Lotor's chest—even pounding on it twice in fear.

Lotor let them take Lance away.


	15. Chapter 15

**Lance**

* * *

Over the past few weeks, Lance had accumulated a certain amount of freedom around Lotor's ship.

There even appeared to be a thirteen-day schedule. Lance assumed that this was some sort of 'week' for the Galra.

Lotor had arranged a schedule for Lance.

Lance would start his week off with a date with Lotor. Lotor had even taken him off the ship. Lance had been to underwater planets, triangle shaped ones surfing a glowing asteroid belt, and even gaseous ones with tourist stations for physical beings.

They would spend the whole day together and say goodbye. And every single day, Lotor left Lance a post-orgasmic mess.

Then Lance would get a day off. Then Lotor would train him again. Lance would learn new fighting skills, but he would always be forced to yield. Lotor would manhandle him and fuck him roughly as his reward. Then Lance got two days off to heal. As hot as being thrown around by Lotor was, no amount of sex felt good when your ribs were broken. This repeated two more times. Now, the last two days...

Those were unpredictable.

Lotor would sometimes ignore him completely. Or they'd have gentle sex. Sometimes Lotor would extend their date one or two days...

But today was none of those days.

Lance had been in his room, staring out the window, watching them approach the big purple planet below. Lance had allowed himself to get his hopes up. Maybe Lotor was extending a date... Maybe...

No.

Lotor marched into Lance's room with a temper.

"Lotor," Lance acknowledged, attempting to ignore Lotor as he charged Lance. "I was wondering if I could have a journal of some kind, something to—"

Lotor grabbed Lance and kissed him hard and passionately. Lance tensed before melting into the kiss. Lance had been expecting a beating. Like on the worst day of his life, when Lotor took everything from him. Or when Lotor ordered Lance to drug himself and tortured him for hours. But the bright side to that was how Lotor always made it up to him. He always treated him so well or took him on the most amazing dates.

Lance wrapped his arms around Lotor and let him into his mouth. If Lotor was going to get aggressive, Lance would let it happen. Then, Lotor would have to make it up to him somehow.

Lance couldn't stop gasping or panting as Lotor ran his hands through his hair and down his body.

Lotor rubbed up and down his thighs to his waist. His hands dragged up behind his back—cupping his ribcage and lifting him onto his toes.

Lance thought Lotor would run out of fire, give up before he could run out of breath. But as Lotor was reduced to a gasping mess, he just pushed Lance back to the bed.

Oh, so they were going straight to the sex.

Lance fell onto the bed underneath Lotor. Lotor bit Lance's lip, drawing out a moan. Lance shivered as he inhaled Lotor's hot breath, his vision turning fuzzy.

"Can't—" Lance exclaimed. "Can't breath!"

Lotor took his hands off Lance's waist and grabbed his face, kissing him really hard one more time before pulling away for air. Lance opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, somehow seeing nothing through his dizziness.

Lance flashed back to their first real time after Lotor brought Lance here. Lotor had taken a minute to kiss Lance exactly like this. Not aggressive or mean, not even possessive—but in some awe and wonder that could only be described as passion.

Lance closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax. Lotor ripped off Lance's clothes quickly. Lotor took a moment, his forehead touching Lance's chest and his breath heating his stomach. Lotor kissed his way down Lance's stomach with a quiet reverence. Lotor dragged his tongue down, kissing the base of Lance's cock.

Lance whined, pushing his hips up to Lotor's lips. Rather than tethering him to the bed in retaliation, Lotor fit his hand under Lance's arched back and helped support him. Lotor licked around the base, drawing out desperate whines from the human beneath him.

Lance opened his eyes. He stretched out his hands and touched Lotor's shoulders. Lotor stood and removed his armor, stripping in front of Lance until he stood there in his purple glory.

Lotor reached behind his head and let his white hair cascade down his shoulders.

Lotor leaned back over the bed, planting a single messy, open kiss on Lance's lips before retreated down his stomach.

When Lotor reached his waist, he licked his way up Lance's length. Lance clenched his teeth together, trying not to scream too loud, but it was harder than he thought. Lotor's tongue had this dexterity, strength, and flexibility that no other human did.

Lotor wrapped his arm around Lance's leg, draping it over his shoulder and he eased closer, swallowing Lance whole. Lance moaned and tensed his body, using the help of Lotor's other hand to sit up. Lance tangled his fingers in Lotor's white locks, his chest rocking as he heaved.

"L—L—Lotor..."

Lotor picked up the pace, rubbing his tongue in response. Lance whined and thrashed aggressively. He would've felt embarrassed or ashamed for allowing himself to be so outward with Lotor—his captor—but his friends were nowhere to be seen. They had proved that. Lance hadn't seen them in two months. It was just him and Lotor now.

What was the point of hiding his pleasure when his cock was literally buried down Lotor's throat?

His friends were gone. They weren't allowed to judge him anymore.

"Lotor!" Lance gasped. "Lo—oh, oh—"

Lotor started to shake. Lance could feel his thick hair trembling against his inner thighs. Lance brushed them behind Lotor's head. Lotor moaned, sending vibrations down Lance's member.

Lotor moaned again. And again. Lotor turned into a screaming mess around Lance's member. Lance tightened every muscle in his body, almost curling around Lotor's head. "Lotor—please—"

Lance couldn't get out a complete thought. He was too out of breath. Lance clutched Lotor's bobbing head, trying to understand what he was seeing below him. Lotor's cock was twitching and spasming, dripping clear cum everywhere.

Only, both of Lotor's hands were holding onto Lance—bracing his hip and stroking his thigh. Lotor was dripping untouched.

Lance shivered as Lotor continued to moan, the same desperate and primal sounds he always emitted before finishing.

"Oh," Lance moaned, thinking about what this meant.

Lotor, who never gave up control, who was now kneeling over the edge of the bed.

Lotor, who always set Lance's body on fire, who was coming at the idea of Lance.

Lance was doing this to him. Just the idea of Lance was setting Lotor off.

Lance couldn't think of the words to describe the emotions swirling in his stomach. He wasn't fully processing his realization of Lotor's feelings.

Lance always assumed he wasn't enough for Lotor. Lance thought that Lotor wanted a trained hole—a self-lubricating one at that. Nothing Lance could give him.

Not to mention, Lotor always seemed so mad at Lance.

Now, Lance was starting to remember everything he'd missed; Lotor's gazing on the Castle, his anger when he couldn't have Lance those two long months ago, and his admiration for his fighting spirit.

If Lotor wanted a trained slave, he wouldn't admire Lance's resistance and fire.

Lance closed his eyes. He lowered his hand and cupped Lotor's face as best he could.

With no other words to describe the... Relief Lance was feeling—realizing that Lotor actually wanted him—Lance did the best he could. "My Prince..."

Lotor tensed and keened, his vocal cords vibrating Lance's tip. That was the first time Lance had ever said that to Lotor with sincerity. Lotor either ordered him to or Lance did it to save himself—to manipulate Lotor.

Lance opened his eyes, his body spasming around Lotor. Lotor's dark violet eyes were accented by the surrounding yellow, seeming darker and more dilated than normal. For a moment, Lance thought they were the same Indigo as Keith's, but he clenched his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about Keith. He didn't want to see his eyes. Keith was gone.

Lotor grabbed Lance tighter and increased the suction. Lance fell back on the mattress, his back arching nearly ninety degrees as he came in thick, lengthy waves.

Lotor came off his cock, panting as much as he was. "Uh, Lance. You came so much."

Lance laughed tiredly.

"So did I," Lotor panted, resting his head against Lance's sweaty leg.

"That—that is so hot," Lance admitted.

"Lance, I'm going to be ready to go again. Soon."

Lance shivered. "Come up here, then. I—I want to talk to you."

Lotor crawled up Lance's body—a panting mess. His lips were violet and swollen. His cock hung loosely and slightly less colored.

"My Prince," Lance whispered, running his fingers on Lotor's chest.

Lotor kissed Lance, the taste of his own cum making it slightly bitter, but Lance didn't care.

"You have to do that to me more often," Lance mumbled.

"I doubt I'll be able to stop now." Lotor kissed his bottom lip. Lotor then reached into his clothes and handed Lance a small bead. "Swallow this."

Lance hesitantly twisted it in his fingers, then put it on his tongue and dry-swallowed it. After he did, Lotor kissed his lips, then his neck, then his chest... Down to his stomach.

"What's that going to do to me?"

"It'll keep you sober," Lotor groaned.

Lance took a deep breath in. Oh.

Oh.

Lance smirked. He pictured every movie where the girl sexily walked around the guy on the bed and sat up. He kissed Lotor's cheek softly, pulling away quietly. He stroked Lotor's back and led him gently to the edge of the bed where Lance stood in front of him. Lance ran his hands through his hair, looking at Lotor's eyes.

And only Lotor's eyes.

Lotor swallowed, staring at the naked human standing in front of him. "I like your hair longer. It's faintly curly."

Lance smiled.

Lotor reached up and grabbed a fistful, lowering Lance to whisper in his hair.

"And I love gripping it while I kiss you."

Lance kissed Lotor, putting his tongue into the Galra's mouth before he could think. He'd never done this to Lotor before. Lotor let him, but he flicked his tongue or wrapped it around Lance's every now and then to remind him who was boss. Lotor's grip tightened in Lance's hair, sending a shockwave down his body to his penis.

"You can pull it all you like," Lance panted.

"Looks like the pill's kicking in," Lotor remarked, rubbing Lance's cock.

Lance laughed, kneeling slowly, Lotor's hand following him down until he couldn't reach him anymore.

So Lotor put his hand in Lance's hair again.

"Please. I can get hard sucking your cock," Lance murmured.

Lotor smirked. "Then I'll change the pill, until then..."

"Uh-uh," Lance dared. "I'll talk."

"Careful, Young Paladin,"

"Careful yourself, My Prince," Lance shot back. "Or you'll have to force yourself down my throat. You won't hear all I have to say about your gorgeous cock... Nor will you feel this."

Lance gentle stroked Lotor's soft member, rubbing his thumb over the tip. With his other hand, Lance cupped Lotor's balls, twirling them around. Lance licked, kissed, and sucked the base of Lotor's cock, right where it met the skin.

Lotor moaned as his member started to harden into its ceramic form under Lance's ministrations.

"Oh, Sweet Sharpshooter, I'd make you do that with your hands tied behind your back."

Lance sucked harder on the base, caressing the cock and rubbing it against his cheek. He was finally going to suck Lotor to completion. Lance was going to get that big Galra-sized member down his throat if he had to force it. And he wasn't going to get himself drugged in the process.

"Oh, yeah?" Lance challenged, feeling himself cross into dangerous territory.

Lotor moaned as Lance swirled his tongue around the tip, his own cock aching and hardening quicker than ever before. The action was making Lance run out of breath.

"Yeah, and you'd do it, otherwise I would never let you cum. You hear?" Lotor bantered back. "I'd lay on my back, on the bed, and you'd squirm your way up to my cock—but you wouldn't be allowed to suck. You can only lick and kiss."

Lance closed his eyes and moaned.

"I wouldn't let you feel my cock in your mouth. I'd let you feel the cock ring and the ten-inch vibrating rod in your ass—" Lotor lowered his voice to a deadly register. "The one you know could never make you feel as good as I do."

Lance closed his eyes, looking up at Lotor obediently. He was losing his grip on what control he had, not that he minded. The more Lotor talked, the hotter Lance felt, yearning to feel his hands behind his back.

"Yeah?" Lotor asked, tightening his grip on Lance's hair. "You like that?"

Lance moaned around Lotor's cock, going down as far as he could.

"Oh, come on, Sweet Paladin, you've done this before. Down the thro—ah," Lotor choked. "Uh, yes."

Lotor moved his hand faster, letting Lance feel the cock sweeping across his tongue and lips.

"Lance." Lotor pulled away abruptly. Lotor leaned down and kissed him roughly, biting him and scraping his tongue with his fangs. "Lance, come here."

Lotor lifted Lance up effortlessly and had him sit on his lap. Lance kept his eyes closed as Lotor spun him around, putting Lance on his hands and knees on the bed. Lance lifted his ass in the air, hoping to taunt him into attacking his prostate when he felt Lotor slide below him.

Lance found himself staring down at Lotor's cock. He courageously swallowed the head.

Lance closed his eyes and moved up and down slowly.

Lance felt Lotor's fingers digging into his hips just before he was blinded by Lotor consuming his entire cock.

Lance groaned into Lotor's cock.

Lance clutched Lotor's legs, desperately trying not to fall on Lotor's hard member. He laughed around Lotor's cock. Here he was, Lance McClain, a seventeen-year-old getting a blow job in a sixty-nine position from an alien Prince.

If only his friends could see him now. His life had changed quite a bit.

Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance's legs, holding him down while he sucked. He kept running his fingers through Lance's cheeks. His fingers grazed Lance's bud with a pleasurable spark. Lance came quickly down Lotor's throat only to find he was still hard. Lance laughed again, coming up with some cheesy joke about calling a doctor in four hours when Lotor grabbed Lance's hair and forced himself down the young boy's throat.

Lance did the best he could, but he was terrified of falling onto Lotor's cock and hurting his throat. Lotor's cock went beyond human length, something Lance found a miracle and a punishment.

Lotor must've gotten tired because he through Lance onto his back. Lance groaned as he found himself staring at the ceiling as he mourned the loss of pleasure around his dick.

Lotor grabbed his arms and yanked him to the edge of the bed.

"Uh! Lotor—god—"

Lance felt his head hang over the bed, opening his throat. Lotor pushed well down his throat, sending a shiver down his spine. Lotor grabbed Lance's wrists and pinned them to the bed. After a few deep thrusts, Lotor bent back down and took Lance n his mouth again.

Lance closed his eyes, swallowing every drop of stringy cum.

Lotor pulled away, leaving Lance gasping as he felt the head of Lotor's sticky cock resting on his cheek, his cock being milked dry by Lotor's flexible tongue.

Lance came again, feeling his cock deflate as it did.

Lance blinked as he stared at the blank ceiling. Lance rolled over and watched Lotor throw on a silk robe cut off just below the hips---like a kimono. It was purple with glittering gold edges.

"L—" Lance gagged. "Did something happen?"

"Stop asking."

"Lotor?" Lance coughed, his throat bruised. "Lotor, please—"

"Not now." Lotor opened the drawer and ordered a drink.

Lance clenched his eyes shut. His body shivering and his—his... "Please, Lotor, I'm dropping. I'm dropping fast."

Lotor spun back around, his hair twirling beautifully, but Lance couldn't appreciate it. "What? I barely touched you."

Lance buried his head into the covers. "I—I know. I'm sorry. I—I—I know. Please? Lotor,"

Lance felt Lotor's warm hands on his back.

"Please, I'm dropping fast."

Lotor pulled Lance into his arms.

Lance groaned, "No! Please, no. Lotor—"

"Okay," Lotor snapped. Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance and nuzzled his hair. Lance shivered as he buried his head into Lotor's shoulder.

"Please don't move me. Everything's burning."

Lotor pulled him up. "I'm taking you to the hospital again. We'll put you to sleep."

"No, I don't want—"

"Enough," Lotor growled. "You don't know what you're saying. It always helps."

Lance closed his eyes. "Lotor—If you would just listen to me, for once---"

Lance screamed, his body spinning around, his body turning to fire. "No! I'm sorry!"

Lotor punched him, sending Lance spirling to the ground.

"Lotor—"

Lance flinched, another punch raining down.

"You—"

Lotor hit him again.

Lance screamed—a throat-curdling yell of anger and hate and frustration.

"Enough, Lance!"

"You bastard! You fucking Bastard! You Son of a—uh! I hate you!" Lance screamed, blood running down his chin from the latest punch. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Lotor dragged him down the hall, overpowering him easily.

"Go to hell! I hate you! Just let me talk—"

Lotor slammed Lance into the wall, covering his mouth while Lance screamed through his fingers.

"Fine." Lotor stuck something into Lance's throat. Lance felt his heart rate slow dangerously.

Lance couldn't see anymore, his body was freezing up and his consciousness turning black.

"I figured it out, you asshole. I know what—" Lance choked, his tongue turning numb. Lance forced himself to speak through the exhaustion and nausea. "I know what consent you want. I know what you want from me. You—You should've let me talk, you Bastard."

Lance didn't remember much after that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Zarkon**

* * *

Zarkon was seething. Not only did Lotor lie about Lance being the blue Paladin, but he did so knowing how Zarkon would feel about it.

Zarkon couldn't believe it when he learned Lance was truly the Red Paladin. That Lance stood side by side with Shiro—his rival. Learning Lance had been the right hand of his enemy had been awful.

But, later, after Haggar cleared his timeline up a bit, Zarkon discovered it wasn't Shiro Lance was loyal to. His anger died down.

If Lance hadn't become the Red Paladin until after Keith became the black paladin, then all Zarkon had to do to break Lance's loyalty to Voltron, was to break Keith.

Since Keith had left Voltron, he'd been replaced by Hagar's toy, the subject of operation Kuron. This was another sign of Lance's coming loyalty to the Galra Empire—his loyalty to them through Shiro.

If Zarkon could break his ties to Voltron—destroy Keith—then Lotor could have his precious prince.

Although, based on Lotor's recent stories, Zarkon would have to step in because of his son's incompetence. Zarkon learned eons ago that subjecting your enemy was an effective method for war. Domesticating Blaytz was the smartest decision he'd ever made...

Zarkon knew his son's love for the Red Prince was real because Zarkon felt nothing for Lance. He didn't even look at what could be appealing about him. Zarkon couldn't name any traits about Lance that would make him so desirable. That was good.

It meant Lance could be Zarkon's right hand. Zarkon would go into war—his son as the brains on his left, his son's prince as the brawns on the right. Perhaps Hagar could pilot blue and Sendak yellow...

At least, it could have been, had Lotor told the truth. Now, it was too late.

Zarkon groaned, standing to replace the quintessence in his new suit; he wasn't thinking clearly anymore.

After replenishing his supply, Zarkon made his way to the hospital.

As he entered, Zarkon saw Lotor holding Lance's hand on the raised hospital platform. Lotor's other hand was running lazily through Lance's brown hair.

Blue crystal shone softly through Lance's half-lidded eyes, staring softly at Zarkon's son. When Lance's gaze drifted over his shoulder he visibly seized.

Lotor spun around, his hair fluttering with him. Zarkon scowled. "Hair down?"

"Father, perhaps now is not the time," Lotor seethed.

"No?" Zarkon hissed. "Step aside Lotor, I need to speak with the Paladin."

"He is not well. Come back later."

"Do not argue with me again."

"Lotor?" Lance asked shakily.

"It's. Okay, Lance."

Zarkon scowled. "No. I might have left you to handle this on your own had you not been so, so incompetent."

"I have not—"

Zarkon held up his hand, switching to a language Lance wouldn't understand. "You told me his rebellion was because you were forced to rush: that us forgivable. But it has been 60 Quintents and he still fights you. He still yells at you."

"That has nothing to do with it," Lotor said.

"No? He doesn't hit you or yell at you? No prince would behave this way towards his master."

Lotor gulped, looking back at Lance. The boy was glaring at Lotor and Zarkon—further proving Zarkon's point.

"You will not take him from me."

Zarkon clenched his fists. "You and he have something in common: your lack of respect."

Zarkon pressed the override switch and placed a field of energy around Lance—separating him from Lotor.

"You abandon me. You fight me. You descend my empire into chaos. Then, you return with a slave and nothing has changed. He is not your Prince—and he never will be."

Lotor shook where he stood, his voice trembling with him. "It took you years. You haven't given me any time! How is he supposed to offer his Consent with you breathing down our necks?"

"How could you expect the Red Lion to submit in the first place?"

Lotor froze, looking shocked and stumped.

"The loyal right hand of Voltron... You still want him? I will take him, and we will see where his loyalties truly lie."

"Father?" Lotor said, more accusingly than questioningly.

"I think it's time he found out about the Voltron attack. The one you claim he knows nothing about."

"I interrogated him. He knew nothing."

Zarkon laughed. "And yet, you lost the Green Lion."

"We have the leader, the one Hagar's toy had to drive away. That is a victory."

"It is not a victory yet," Zarkon relaxed, taking in the desperate expression on Lotor's face.

If Zarkon wanted Lotor loyal, and he did, he needed to give him Lance. But if Zarkon wanted Lance under control...

"Leave us. Now."

"Father," Lance pleaded.

"Now."

"Zarkon!" Lotor screamed in defiance.

Zarkon spun on Lance, knowing he was the only one way to stop Lotor. Zarkon passed the barrier and ripped Lance out of the bed, holding him in front of him for Lotor to see.

Lance struggled in his grasp, his human strength pitiful and easy to subdue.

"I will not ask again," Zarkon said in English.

Lotor hesitated, his body twitching as he contemplated his options. Then he left. Lance made a slight whimpering sound as Lotor abandoned him.

Zarkon dragged the human down the halls, subduing every effort to run or fight. Zarkon ordered a guard to muzzle him, silencing him with a plate of steel gray Lotor had designed just for him after the first time Voltron attacked.

Logic told Zarkon that it was the Green Paladin, tracking them the same way he had tracked Black. But hate told him the problem was Lance.

Zarkon opened the door, Lance punching and struggling against him as he did. Zarkon threw the boy to the ground, kicking him to get his fire to die.

"Lance?" A cracked voice said through the dark.

Zarkon watched the boy slowly turning around, coming face to face with the half-Galra paladin.

Zarkon shut the door, locking them in. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Lance**

* * *

Lance was starting to feel the gaps in his life—in his personality. Whenever he was with Lotor, Lotor was all Lance could remember or think of.

But when he wasn't—when Lotor was gone—Lance suffered the effects of crushing isolation and sorrow.

Even worse were the memory gaps. Lance couldn't remember his time on the castle, only Lotor's training. He didn't remember his life in Earth—learning English—Lance only remembered learning to communicate with Lotor; what can he say and how should he say it?

Lance couldn't remember Keith either.

Whenever Lance pictured his life in the castle, he could see Pidge, Hunk, and Coran. But Shiro and Allura were fuzzy at best. Because Lance liked them. He liked their differences: Shiro's eyes and Allura's skin; Shiro's humanity and Allura's Altean attributes; man and woman.

Lance was haunted by a memory of attraction to these other people—these people with no claim on him every single night. If Lotor found out...

Keith had been all but obliterated. Because Keith was more than an attraction. It was so much stronger than a desire to have angry hate-sex with a hothead to pound his ass. No, Lance got plenty of that now—enough to make him realize he wanted more than that from Keith.

He wanted everything he could give him—all of the things he never thought possible because of Shiro's lingering presence.

Now, with his body sore and a muzzle on his face, Lance could see Keith clearly again.

Keith put a hand over his mouth, muffling a sob. "Lance?"

Lance couldn't even hum a response. But he felt his tears sliding down his cheeks; wetting the metal.

Keith was here. And Keith could see him.

Oh, no...

Keith could see him.

Then he said the worst thing imaginable, confirming all of his fears: "You're okay."

Keith didn't say it with accusation or guilt; just relief and wonderment.

But Lance saw it as an acknowledgment of his own complacency.

Lance had allowed Lotor to take him. The minute Lotor took him out of his cell, after brutally raping him and nearly killing him, Lance should have fought tooth and nail. Lance should have rebelled.

Lotor was Galra for god's sake.

The Galra were evil.

Keith wasn't evil. The Galra weren't evil. Lotor wasn't evil.

Instead, Lance did his training exercises. He lifted his legs and stretched his arms to make Lotor love him. Lance defined and tones his ass, sculpting a perfect bubble for his cock. A perfect little slab of meat to fuck.

Lance shivered, resisting the urge to vomit. He didn't want to drown in his vomit.

Lance shook his head, crying hard. No, he wasn't okay.

"Lance... Come here," Keith begged.

Lance shook his head. Lotor would kill him. He collapsed against the shut door, no one could touch him.

"Lance? I won't let you be hurt. I won't touch you, I promise. But I think I can get the mask off. Okay?" Keith tried to move closer but was pulled back to the wall by his chains. "Please come closer. Please."

Lance slowly crawled away from the wall. He stopped by Keith, shying away from him as he raised his hands.

"It'll be okay, Lance."

Keith fumbled his fingers around the edge before his Galra blood triggered a release.

Lance took a deep breath of air (even though the muzzle didn't inhibit his breathing at all).

Keith touched his cheek, his fingers sending an electric shock through his skull. Lance flinched.

"I'm sorry!" Keith put his hands down. "Are you okay? What's happening? What can you tell me?"

"I—I..." Lance sobbed. "I—I—I—"

"Okay," Keith purred. "Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Take your time."

Lotor is the only person I've talked to in months. Lance wanted to say. He beats me and he rapes me—and he even tortured me once. But he talks to me and he holds me and he heals me. He dresses me in nice clothes. He feeds me.

"Lance... Shiro told me what Lotor was doing to you. I—I won't touch you. Just breathe. Just talk to me."

Lance took an unsteady breath. "Lotor—"

Keith caught him as he fell. Lance let him. Lance let his hold him in his arms.

"Has Lotor asked for your Consent?" Keith whispered.

Consent. Consent.

It was all Lotor seemed to care about. It was all he wanted from Lance; his mind, his body, his consent.

"I'm sorry!" Keith panicked. "Okay! We won't talk about it. I'm sorry."

"He—he—you—" Lance took a deep breath, trying to keep his words slow, but it all came out so quickly. "You're not supposed to ask for it, I don't think—he hasn't asked. He wants me to ask—he—he wants me to offer my Consent. I don't know what it is. Or… I do. Last time I thought—"

Keith rubbed his back. Lance's heart started to slow, but not too much.

"I think I figured it out a while ago, but when I tried to talk about it, he put that muzzle on me. He... He hurt me and wouldn't let me explain. I was trying to make it better."

"Better?" Keith asked.

"Y—Yeah. I was trying to tell him that humans ask for consent. They don't offer it. They don't just say: here, I will be your bride. They ask if you will be theirs—or their groom. Or... Prince. I guess."

Keith slowly pulled Lance out of his hiding place and looked him in the eyes. Lance couldn't handle the eye contact, so he looked away. Keith always had beautiful eyes, but he wasn't Lotor. Lance wasn't used to it.

"God, Lance..."

"S—Sorry—"

"Don't apologize."

"—All of Lotor's people are faceless, nameless figures on this ship. I don't know how to—"

"I know," Keith mumbled. "One is a blade. She saw... Lance, she saw what happened to you."

Lance snapped back. "W—when?"

"A couple weeks ago. We—I tried to come and save you, but we failed."

Lance shivered. "I know. He wanted to see if I had anything to do with it."

Keith froze. That must've sounded ominous.

"Pidge has been so busy trying to track the Galra physically, she forgot about her connection to Green. She picked up the ship from a distance and... We came. We came for you, Lance."

"You're too late."

"We're not. They'll come for both of us."

"No." Lance's voice rang out sharper and stronger than it had in a while. He only used it when he was feeling strong... Or when he would talk back to Lotor.

Keith didn't ask. He waited.

"It's not your right to take me."


	18. Chapter 18

**Keith**

* * *

Keith had been noticing little signs from the moment Lance was thrown into his cell. Keith wasn't stupid, he didn't miss a thing.

He didn't miss the smooth and well-toned muscle definition of Lance's body. Nor did he miss how much easier it was to see the muscles through his lack of fat.

He saw the bags under Lance's eyes. He saw the whiteness of his fingernails.

Perhaps, most notable, was his ticks. Lance couldn't hold eye contact with Keith. He could speak to him. And he couldn't hold Lotor accountable.

Lance made it sound like Lotor tortured him after Keith's first rescue attempt: the one that failed.

But he didn't say it.

And now, Keith could feel the blood draining from his face. His breath slowed and his heart sped up.

"I—I don't have the right to take you?"

Lance stayed still, his voice still quiet, but his demeanor sturdier than before.

Keith took a deep breath, trying to be careful. "I know... I'm sorry. No one has the right to you. No one but you, Lance."

Lance looked up at him, squinting as he held Keith's gaze for the longest time so far.

There was so much pain. His strength was not gone, Lance was a fighter. Yet, it was muted, hidden. It would have to be. With Lotor, how else was Lance supposed to survive?

"Lance, I don't care what's happened to you. None of it. Pidge has her lion back. She'll find us."

"How?" Lance challenged, his voice devoid of emotion but steady in its accusation. "She had Green? Then how will she sense us? How will they find us, Keith?"

Keith swallowed. "They'll be more focused. And they have both of us to worry about. Pidge will track us—"

Lance punched Keith. He punched him well.

Keith fell to the floor, a swelling pain in his jaw. Keith had a faint memory of what Shiro described to him about Lotor and Lance. It was all Keith had to focus on.

But Lotor was training Lance. He was training him to fight. Keith thought it was a screwed up way to get to Lance—to attack him without facing retribution. What did it mean that Lotor was still training him?

"Lance!" Keith barked.

"Don't yell at me! Don't you ever!" Lance screamed. "You don't get to!"

Keith took a breath, inhaling blood and covering his face with chained up hands. Why could he remove Lance's muzzle, but not his own binds?

This was a test. A test for Lance.

A test of his loyalties.

Keith had to keep that in mind. He needed to put Lance first, no matter how much he wanted to scream and yell at him to snap out of it.

Besides, there was a small chance that Lance was putting on a show.

"It's okay," Keith whispered quietly.

"No!" Lance screamed, tears—all too real—flowing down his face. "God, no! None of this is okay! Nothing that's happening it okay! I am not okay!"

Keith groaned as one of Lance's kicks got to Keith's stomach. “I—We'll take you back."

"No! You won't take me from here! Not ever!"

Keith wheezed on the floor. Was Lance saying it was impossible or not allowed? The locks clicking on the door outside indicated the later.

"We'll take you back," Keith said, gazing at Lance with as much meaning as he could.

Because he didn't mean literally. Keith was trying to tell him that Voltron would take him back. That he would always be their friend and teammate.

"We'll take you back."

Lance faltered, the slightest hint of understanding flashing on his face. Then he kicked him again.

"I'll... I'll take you back." Keith's voice cracked, the layers of meaning and emotion breaking him.

The door swung open, the guards coming in and pulling Lance off if Keith. He resisted in their grasp, with visible effort, no actual intent.

"It's not too late..." Keith whispered, his heart breaking as he realized Lance couldn't hear him anymore.

Lance was being presented to Lotor. Lotor a man with a look of all-consuming, codependent, and unhealthy love corrupting his expression.

Lance stilled in front of him, his figure strong and aggressive. For a moment, Keith though Lance would hit him. He was wrong. Lotor asked a question, his hands stroking his face.

Lance nodded.

Lance relaxed as Lotor turned him around, pulling his hands behind his back. He tied them tight in secure purple and golden ropes.

Lance wouldn't meet his eyes again. Keith saw Lotor drag Lance to the side, the human kicking and fighting as he did.


	19. Chapter 19

**Lance**

* * *

Lance kicked and fought the whole way back to Lotor's room. He was frightened; it was a rare occasion that Lotor brought him to his own, royal quarters. He did so once when Lance first got here to grope him endlessly. A second time to muzzle him after intense torture, filling Lance with hours of what can be described as, quite frankly, the most overwhelming sex of his life.

Lance had put on a show to preserve himself in the beginning. But the moment they turned down that somewhat-familiar corridor, fear twisted Lance's stomach. A lot could happen in Lotor's room. Two times wasn't enough; it remained uncharted territory.

Lance saw them approaching the ginormous doors to his room. He tried twisting away, only managing to get on Lotor's side, dragging behind him instead of being forced in front of him. Lance expected tears---he was weak enough for tears---but they never came. Lance was exhausted. He was tired. His eyes were dry. He was too mortified to cry.

Lotor dug his fingers into Lance's arms. Lance glanced up, taking in the Lotor's quick flash of irritation. Lance didn't stop.

"Open the doors!" Lotor cried out, exasperated by his guards' slowness. Lance made eye contact with the female guard. He'd seen her around a lot. She was a part of Lotor's personal detail. This meant she'd been there the first time he and Lotor were truly together. When Lance yielded... And Lotor pinned him face down to the floor.

Lance considered that his first time.

Maybe it was because he was fighting now. Because right now, she was sympathetic or encouraging or disgusted by Lance, whatever the reason: she held his gaze as long as possible.

An undecipherable message.

Lotor barked for the doors to be closed the moment they were in. He didn't attempt to drag Lance to the bed.

"Lance, stop," Lotor's voice was gentle.

Lance thrashed against him. Lotor was his captor. Lptor forced him from his home and his friends. He beat and tortured him as his own personal slave; a tpy for his own release. Lance shouldn't stop. 

"Lance, that's enough. You did great. You can stop."

Lance did great? Lance glared at the Galra. Lotor returned his gaze with kindess and patience in his eyes. Lance didn't want to look at him but he couldn't get away. Lance bent his legs, trying to kneel on the floor. Lotor helped set him down gently, letting Lance lean against his chest. Lotor was warm. However awful he was, he was always reliable. 

"Why---Why didn't you tell me?" Lance sobbed.

"That would defeat the purpose of the test." Lotor was quick to answer. He rubbed the unbound sections of Lance's arms. His thumbs grazed the exposed skin, not attempting to remove his binds; not yet. 

"N---n---no," Lance protested. "About K---Keith? He was here? H---How long?"

Had Leoth been here this whole time? Since Lotor tortured him behind those big, heavy doors? They stood in his bedroom, hiding behind thick, violet curtains. Lance could see them from where he sat. Lotor hadn't taken him in there since that interrogation. Lance was grateful for that. However long ago that day was, the terrors were fresh on his mind. Had Keith been here just as long? When Lance was giving in, falling in love with Lotor, was Keith being tortured in a cell? Lotor followed his gaze, staring mournfully at the doors. He seemed to follow Lance's train of thought just fine.

He leaned down and kissed his ear. "I'm going to take these ropes off you now."

Lance shook his head. Why didn't he want the ropes off? Well, what was he supposed to do when Lotor released him? Stay by his side, knowing Keith is down the hall? Lance was supposed to escape. But no matter how hard he tried, he would fail. Then, not only would Lance fail, but he'd lose all repect and trust he's gained in his time here. He couldn't risk that, but he didn't want o stay.

Lance needed to get his bearings. "Don't! Wait---a little longer. Please?"

Lotor sighed, his eyes confused but angry. "Of course. Can I sit you on the bed?"

Lance nodded. He could go to the bed. Lotor tied him up. Lance was his sex slave, where else would Lotor put him? "Yeah. That's okay."

Lotor helped him stand. He assisted Lance and let him walk over himself before resting him comfortably on the sheets. Lance wished Lotor had forced him, for Keith's sake. But if Lance made Lotor force him, then Lotor wouldn't trust him. Lanced _needed_ Lotor to trust him. 

"I'm going to get you some water, Sweet Prince," Lotor said, biting his lip before walking away. 

Lance kept his head down. Was Lotor aroused by this? Did he like Lance, tied up in his royal quarters? If Lotor wanted to fuck him now, how should Lance react? He can't fight.

He _can't_ fight.

Lance sobbed. What does he do now? How was he supposed to explain this to Lotor? To Keith? Who was he supposed to explain this to? How does he gain trust and fight back? 

Lotor returned with a glass of water. It wasn't glowing---so no alcohol or quintessence. Lotor rubbed Lance's cheek with his thumb, coaxing his head up. Lance met his eyes, terrified Lotor would see his fear. Lotor registered something, but simply placed the glass to Lance's lips and tilted it slowly for him to drink. It tasted like water, but better. Like bottled or flavored water... Just a little off. 

Lotor gently poured it into his mouth in little sips.

Lotor set the empty glass on the table. Lance checked it again; no glowing. Lance felt lightheaded. His body felt detached from his brain. Fuck.

Lotor smiled. "You are so brave, Young Prince."

Lance flexed his arms against the ropes.his brain was slow, but Lance was using that word, again. "Prince?"

Lotor smiled, soft and compassionate. "I get it now. I... I don't always understand you. Sometimes you yell at me, other times you say nothing, or—or exactly what I want to hear. But I understand this."

Lance glanced up, looking into those purple eyes without fear.

Lotor sighed.he seemed content. Not happy or overjoyed, but relieved. A burden had been stripped from Lotor's shoulders. Something Lance did in that cell was giving him peace of mind.

Lotor continued. "I understand old loyalties. And... I understand pride. I know you don't want your leader to see you here, by my side." Lotor rubbed his back. "But by my side, Lance, you could be the leader."

Lance looked down, as embarrassed as he'd been when he asked Lotor to put the binds on him. He can't say yes. He can't marry Lotor and be a Prince of the Galra. He's a paladin. A _paladin_. "I can't do it. I don't ever want them to see me again." 

Lotor smiled sadly. "They don't have to. Not really... Lance? You don't have to show Keith you're with me. Not now. But you might, someday. I'll do whatwver you want now, but I want you to be ready for that day."

Lance nodded. He doesn't have to face Keith now, but Lotor was right. "Keoth will never stop."

"Exactly, how could he?" Lotor cupped Lance's face. "Look at you."

Lance sobbed. Lotor loved him. He loved him like Keoth did---like Keith does. "I don't want to hurt him."

It felt like the most dangerous confession of his life. This was what Lotor would hate about him. This was what Lotor would beat him again for. It was all out on the table now. Lance's deepest, darkest secret---

"I know," Lotor pulled Lance in for a hug, embracing his small form without restraint. He folded Lance's crippled form into a tight grip. Lance couldn't hug him back, but he leaned into it---accepting it. 

Lance cried, so relieved and so scared. If the bonds were gone, would Lotor still pity him? Were they the only things keeping Lance safe? If Lance asked for them to be removed, would Lotor think he was okay? Would he think he was over it?

The chains were security. They took away his burden; the obligation as a Paladin of Voltron and a human being to fight back. He didn't have to worry about escape. He didn't have to tell Keith no.

As long as the ropes were on, he could remain safe in Lotor's arms.

Free of guilt. Free of Duty.

And free of himself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Lotor**

* * *

Lance had been in some form of chains for over ten days, now.

Lotor tried to remove them. He tried to ask Lance for permission. Every time, Lance went quiet. The young paladin became afraid. Lotor knew Lance better than anyone in the universe and he knew that Lance didn't want those chains off.

Lance couldn't take them off now. Now that his Lion, as well as his leader, were on board, Lance felt a sudden and overwhelming pressure to escape.

But he didn't want to.

So Lotor kept them on. For him. It started out as an understanding; respect for Lance's obligation. Then, it became a concern; his Love was ashamed, and probably always would be. Now, it was fucking arousing; Lotor owned Lance.

That beautiful human, with the most exquisite skin and brightest eyes. His smaller stature and lithe legs. Every inch of him had been kissed, licked, sucked, and bitten by Lotor.

No one else could claim that of the Red Paladin of Voltron.

At first, Lotor kept Lance chained with gold to his bed. He drugged him to arousal so he wouldn't feel shame, then Lotor used his tongue or hand until Lance climaxed.

Then, Lotor tied him up and dragged him down the hall to Lance's own room. Lotor made sure to refer to it as 'his cell' before ordering his servants to chain him to the bed.

When Lotor came back, Lance had bruises around his wrists. Lotor moved the chains, one at a time, to his ankles and kissed the bruises darker.

Lotor knew Lance didn't want to escape. But it was his job. If he was chained to a bed, he was supposed to struggle. Lotor worried over the idea of Lance tugging at his chains, alone, in the bed Lotor got for him, until he realized he was aroused.

It had been so long since Lotor held a struggling Lance until his finish. Lotor reached down to touch himself but burst before he got there.

Lance was in a bed. Lance was all his... To do whatever he wanted to.

Lotor had known Lance's schedule before... He knew when he was in his room. He always had the ability to go in and touch him... But now, there was something intoxicating about it.

The next time he thought about it, Lotor marched in there. He groped and kissed Lance; both of them fully clothed while the young Paladin squirmed and writhed in his arms until they both came with a cry. Lotor forced his tongue down Lance's throat, reveling in the humans smaller mouth and little gasps. He even enjoyed the Paladin's mock attempts to bite at his tongue, shocking Lotor's nerves so sweetly.

Then Lotor started manhandling him. Lance usually loved the gentle touchings and mutual sex. In fact, Lotor saw how hard he blushed when Lotor worshipped his body, so Lance was more than in love with it. But as a Paladin chained to a bed, bruises alternating from ankles to wrists, Lance became much more comfortable with Lotor's cock in his ass.

As much as Lance wanted it, there was something... Dominating, about Lotor bruising Lance's hips as he tore orgasm after orgasm from the Paladin's body. Lotor tied him up even more one day and fingered Lance to a white finish.

The great Red Paladin of Voltron, tied to a bed, stripped naked, and forcibly fingered to blissful climax by the prince of the enemy's empire. That was an angle Lance could live with.

Lance soon became able to look him in the eye again. Only now, his quiet defiance and passion—two things Lotor feared Lance had rid himself of—had returned to those wide, human eyes.

Finally, Lotor placed two metal cuffs around Lance's ankles. He told the Red Paladin, his Red Prince, that they tracked and informed Lotor of his every movement. It would lock every door as soon as he approached it. It would alert Lotor if Lance tried to take them off, go somewhere he shouldn't, and—most importantly of all—go near Keith and the Red Lion.

Lance's eyes lit up. Lance was free. He could leave his bed, even leave the room, and Lotor had still kept the possibility of escape disabled.

Lance sat on the bed, both legs in Lotor's lap and he mouthed a silent thank you.

Lotor frowned as Lance bit his lips, staring at Lotor's. He'd asked Lance if he would ever lean in again. Lance had whispered: one day.

So Lotor kissed him.

Then he left the room, leaving Lance a journal by his bedside, the one he'd asked for so long ago.

* * *

Lotor decided to use the tracking device while Lance was on one of his runs. As Lance ran circles around the galra training deck, Lotor watched the little bead in his screen. He knew Lance would be out of breath and bathed in his sweet, sweet scent.

He left his desk, deciding to continue his search for Oriande at a later time.

Right now, he was going to see his Prince.

Lotor wandered down a level until he hid behind the elevator doors. As he watched the dot move closer, he discarded the tablet and lunged into the hall.

Lance yelped but was too tired to act fast enough to escape. Lotor threw him against the wall (as safely as possible) and bit his earlobe. He loved Lance's ears, they were deliciously round and fleshy.

"You're coming with me, Young Paladin," Lotor ordered.

Lance licked his lips. "Yes, My Prince."

Lotor's stomach swirled as Lance accepted. He hadn't accepted openly in so long.

Lotor dragged him to the nearest door: the observation deck. The deck looked out over thousands of ships, all docked in neat lines.

Lotor forced Lance's hands against the windows and rubbed his stomach. "Did you not realize the ships were so close?"

Lance shook his head. "No, P—Prince.'

Lotor kissed the back of Lance's neck. "No matter, you can't get down there from here. More importantly, they can't see in here."

Lance nodded. His body shivering. Lotor was afraid Lance was freaking out, but he wasn't Lance was turned on.

Thank god.

Lotor released his hands, pulling Lance away slightly until he stood in front of the window.

"Turn around."

Lance obeyed, a silent challenge in his eyes. He'd voiced the question to Lotor once before. He'd said: And what do you think you're capable of, My Prince?

I'll show you. After all, you are only the chosen whore of your master this night.

Lotor smiled. "Take off your clothes. Take them off in front of all those Galra down there."

Lance's movements were mesmerizing. First, he thumbed at the hem of his pants, pulling them lower and tugged at the edges of his pants. Pance let them fall back on his waist just before revealing his cock.

Then, his hands slid up and down his body until he peeled his shirt off his sweaty chest. Oh, god. Lance had been gaining muscle back on his chest and he looked gorgeous. Toned. Strong.

Next, Lance turned around. He showed his round ass to Lotor as he pulled his pants down to his thighs. He separated his legs slightly and slowly bent over, folding himself in half. He swayed in place, offering Lotor that perfect ass. Soon after he separated his legs, revealing his perfect hole.

Lance wiggled his hips a bit, his flesh dancing Lotor's cock to hardness as he blinked his purple-red rim. "Do you want to touch me, My Prince? Or are you mad your soldiers got to see my cock first?"

Lotor growled. "If you ever want to be touched by your master again, you will turn around now."

Lance waited. He—with his chest flattened to his legs—pulled the rest of his pants down to his ankles... Slowly caressing his own legs until his hands hit the floor.

Then, after stepping out of his pants, he seductively looked over his shoulder, his face flushed. He didn't turn around.

Lotor purred. "Never before... Have I seen such insolence from a mere concubine."

Lance smiled, his face innocent and taunting and red. "Did you let them get away with it, Master?"

Lotor noted Lance's use of did, past tense, with a relieved smile. He was glad Lance knew he was the only one for him now. "Only you, My Love."

Lance closed his eyes and sighed.

Lotor paced in front of Lance. He touched the human's bottom lip, cheering silently as Lance let him slide his thumb into his mouth. Lance made eye contact and sucked until Lotor felt the soft back of the Paladin's throat.

Lance remained in control of his gag reflex. Lotor was worried it had been too long. Blowing Lotor was too much of a surrender for Lotor to attempt it as of late.

But that didn't seem to be true anymore.

Lance pulled away slowly, giving Lotor's thumb one final, powerful suck before coming off. "So good, Master."

Lotor hummed. "You only call me master when you want my cock in your throat." Lance shivered. "You do want to please your Master, don't you?"

"Yes, My Prince." Lance grabbed Lotor's hand, sucking on every one of his fingers appreciably.

Lotor's heart pounded. "And why should I let you?"

Lance gave Lotor that look again. He saw how out of breath Lotor was, he knew he was going to win, but he played along, kissing Lotor's palm between words.

"Because I've been such a good sub for you before. Don't you want me again?"

Lotor paused. "A sub?"

Lance smirked, signaling for Lotor to bend over and listen. Lotor obliged without hesitation.

"A submissive: It is the human equivalent of what I am. They are a sexual partner; one that does what they are told."

Lotor's heart started beating faster.

"They serve their masters. They do whatever their masters want. They willingly surrender their bodies to pleasure, to pain, to want... Their master's reserve the right to punish and reward them."

Lance paused his chest heaving as much as Lotor's.

"And most importantly, they are respected by their masters for their talents."

Lance drew away from Lotor's ear, looking amused at Lotor's face, which he knew must've been flushed purple.

Lotor clenched his jaw. "Kneel... And you will be rewarded."

Lance kneeled slowly. He glanced with arousal and embarrassment at the ships below.

"They can't see you, My Sharpshooter," Lotor reassured him. "You are a sight for my eyes only."

Lance looked doubtful. Lotor realized that he'd exposed Lance before. He's dragged him, his armor shredded throughout the base. He'd forced him to orgasm in an arena.

Lance was rubbing Lotor's thighs hesitantly.

"Never again, Young Love," Lotor whispered. "Never again."

Lance paused, his eyes gazing off somewhere behind Lotor. Lance leaned forward and kissed him through the pants. He reached up, tugging longingly on the belt of his uniform.

Lotor hummed, thinking about the human response to Galra sperm. "Did you take your pill?"

Lance nodded slowly, his eyes dilated, his face eager, and his lips slack. "Monthly injection."

Lotor undid his belt, releasing the tension on his pants. He removed his chest-piece. He stripped everything off but the pants.

Lance waited, rubbing the skin on Lotor's hips. After a brief look up, he pulled the pants slowly and awkwardly to Lotor knees. Lance lunged, kissing the exposed purple skin the moment his lips could reach.

Lotor gripped his member, helplessly stroking his cock as Lance kissed his skin.

The pants fell to the floor. Lance leaned back... Lotor gushed. Oh.

Lotor kicked away his pants, standing before Lance. The two of them naked and breathless. Lotor thought he only lost his breath because he was always so busy kissing Lance. That didn't seem to be true. Not completely.

Lance kissed away at his legs, his breath warming the purple skin.

Lotor stroked faster, a blink of an eye away from coming over Lance's kneeling body. Beads and strings of Galra cum were flowing out of Lotor's tip. He was content to spill slowly all over the Paladin as he felt his legs kissed and sucked...

Lance's eyes were closed. A drop clear liquid seeped out and landed on his face. Lance opened his eyes, saw a job needed to be done, and set to it. Lance licked his way up to the head of Lotor's shaft.

He bobbed and tongued Lotor's member, slapping Lotor's hand away so he could go deeper.

Lotor seized, grabbing Lance's face and hair desperately as his head dipped down Lance's warm, pulsing throat.

"You have been keeping secrets from me, Young Paladin."

Lance bobbed his head, looking up at Lotor as he talked.

"I have begged you, demanded something from you that I thought... Something I thought you wouldn't understand. Come to find out, you humans aren't as pure as I imagined."

Lance slowed down, keeping Lotor's tip in his mouth as Lotor continued.

"You've kept this from me for so long. A human relationship that defines what we are. And yet, you never told me."

Lance had nearly ceased moving. He was now trying to compensate with his tongue, but it wasn't the same. Lotor moved him for him. He caressed his face as he taunted the back of his throat with his cock.

"You didn't tell me until now, Lance."

Lance moaned, maybe an apology.

"You're so strong," Lotor groaned, looking down at the pretty human taking his cock so well. "You are so strong."

Lance's eyes changed. They were relieved, but they were also grateful. Lance held out. Lance kept so many secrets.

"So strong, Lance."

Lance sucked faster, driving Lotor to the edge.

Lotor pulled Lance off of his cock, admiring his flushed, gasping face. Lotor prompted him to stand. He tingled with a perverted sense of power as Lance stood in front of him... Tall for a human but so far beneath Lotor.

Lotor stepped back. He noted the disappointment on Lance's face.

Lotor slowly laid down, laying flat on the floor. He gestured to the space to the right of his body, by his waist.

"There, kneel."

Lance folded himself onto his ankles, watching Lotor lazily stroke his massive cock.

Lotor laughed. "If you let me come down your throat, I'll treat you so well."

"Deal."

* * *

Lance laid with his body heaving on top of Lotor. His hole leaked a lazy stream of spit. His body had finally ceased convulsing and he now lay exhausted. Tired. Spent.

Lotor ran his hands up and down the beautiful long legs. They trembled slightly under his fingertips. Out of exhaustion, not tension.

Lotor always admired the effect he had on Lance post-orgasm. He was calmer. He relaxed into Lotor's embrace.

And, by god, if Lotor had to fuck him senseless for hours... He would hold Lance in his arms.

As he ran his hands up and down his legs, he realized it was difficult to adjust his ankles.

"I'll get you better ones; lighter ones," Lotor offered.

Lance paused, considering. "No, no. I'll keep these ones."

Lotor sighed, half out of irritation, half out of defeat. "I will switch them... One at a time. I promise—"

Lance chuckled nervously. "See these beautiful legs?"

Lotor frowned. He had been admiring them greatly.

"You don't get these by doing nothing. They make my runs more... Interesting."

"Very well," Lotor decided. He hefted Lance into his arms, running his hands along every surface until finally becoming still and content in their warmth.

"You really think I'm strong?"

Lotor looked down at closed eyes, the Paladin half asleep.

"The strongest."


	21. Chapter 21

**Allura**

* * *

The ship had become a minefield of pain and torment. After Lance got taken, they sent for Keith. Keith piloted the Red Lion again and they attempted to rescue Lance.

They failed.

They tried again. This time, trying to get Pidge to her lion so that they would have Voltron.

And, well... Pidge got her Lion.

But Lotor got the Red Lion and Keith.

Then, Shiro started insisting they perform their duties as 'defenders of the universe.'

With Lance and Keith gone, they only had four lions to help. No Voltron.

But Shiro insisted. He pushed and pried. He made it his mission to help someone. To save someone.

Allura realized it was something they all needed. They all needed a win.

She gave the team a list... And Shiro picked the one for them. Olkarion.

They went. They struggled without Voltron. They won.

Allura lost.

She didn't know how... But she lost.

Allura woke up in a clean room. Her head pounded slightly, but she was fine. She was in a room full of shelves. All littered with garbage.

"Coran?" Allura asked.

There was no response.

"Shiro? Hunk?" Allura panicked. "Anyone?"

No one answered her call. She was cut off.

Allura carefully surveyed the area. She discovered that there were no people around. She grabbed all manner of objects to try and pry the door open. She failed.

The object in her hands was an Altean creation.

In fact, many of the objects were. Altean, Altean, Altean, Galra, Altean...

Allura found herself, another Altean relic among many. It was almost enough to make her cry.

But she would not give up. She would never give up.

She discovered an altean science log. The great Honerva, reducing herself to a quintessence-addicted lunatic.

Allura's head started to spin.

Honerva's observations on quintessence evolved into a search. A search for Olkarion.

Altean alchemy.

Honerva. Haggar. An altean alchemist.

Allura stayed calm. She kept her head surprisingly level.

Somehow, Honerva had faith in an imaginary place her father had told her bedtime stories about.

Her eyes opened and she found a map. The combination of stress and intrigue—thrown into a human blender with her emotions—showed her a map.

The star charts were unfamiliar. It was an entirely unknown quadrant to her.

The lights turned off. Allura ducked instinctually, calling out to her abductors. "Hello?"

The room started to fill with gas. Allura looked at the map. No...

She did know that place. Coran mentioned it to her. It was dangerous, forbidden territory.

The perfect place for Oriande.

Lights poured in through the gas, revealing a tall, heavily armored figure. Allura should charge him. She should attack, but her head spun. He pranced toward her, his hair bouncing as he did.

Lotor ripped the map out of her hands before she could process what was happening. She looked at him, his purple skin and Altean ears, her mind connecting the dots.

But she couldn't speak. She couldn't think of what to say.

Lotor grabbed her face in his fingers, studying her with an unusual expression.

"It's strange," He said. "Your skin is so much like his, but not quite as gold."

Allura growled. "Where is Lance?"

Lotor smiled dropping her onto the floor. He stood over her, his entire body crooked as she slowly lost consciousness.

Right where he wants to be.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Lance**

* * *

Married.

Lance tried to picture himself married.

He's living in a small, broken down house on a street corner in Cuba. The white fence is chipping, but at least they have a patch of grass.

A small chubby latina baby sucks on her fists, her body resting proactively on a blanket.

Lance looks up. There's a pregnant Cuban woman, beautiful but featureless. A blank palette. Pure potential.

Then, after Lance's life and identity turned on his head, he had two images.

He's living in America. A massive farm with chickens and goats decorate his backyard. Two shaggy dogs run across the front yard, a faceless man with dark hair exits the house in a sweater.

Lance thinks he might be Shiro, maybe Keith, but he can't tell.

He's too far away.

He's unattainable.

Whether it was his dream man or his captivating crush, the dream melted away in a flash of purple and white.

Lance was on another date with Lotor. The planet was beautiful. Pink grass and green skies. The air was warm and soft, like wind during a thunderstorm.

Lotor was sad. He kept his head down and his expression neutral. Lance knew what that meant.

But, whatever was happening out there, in the war, Lance wasn't allowed to ask about it.

"Lotor?" Lance tried to distract him. "Do you ever think you'll take me to my homeworld?"

Lotor seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts. "Your homeworld... You never said where."

Lance swallowed. Right. Because then Lotor would take him. The Galra would go there.

"I—I don't know where," Lance admitted.

Lotor raised his eyebrow.

Oh, no. Lotor could sense lies. Lotor could tell.

Lance leaned over, grabbing his arm gently. He looked pleadingly and innocently into his eyes. "Do you? The Galra weren't there. My planet was one of the ones... Far off in the corner of the universe, where one of the lions hid. It brought me to the castle of lions."

Lotor pondered that.

Technically, Lance didn't lie. All of that was true.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't ever heard of... Humans before." Lotor kissed his cheek. "You're the only being I've ever met who called themselves that."

Lance nodded, turning away as if disappointed.

Lotor pushed his lips to the back of Lance's neck. He hummed softly. "I'm sorry. What was it like?"

Lance closed his eyes. "Everywhere was different, but my home was warm. Hot. Sometimes unbearably, but hey, air conditioning, right?"

Lotor laughed at Lance's vernacular.

"I—I'm not supposed to say it," Lotor stuttered. "But I am wholly, completely in love with you, my Sweet Paladin."

Lance froze, his stomach swirling with relief and joy and pride.

Lance leaned up against his prince, looking up at his nervous, purple face. "I love you too."

Lotor froze, looking down at him with a shocked expression. "I thought I ruined that. I thought I blew my only chance."

Lance frowned. "No, Lotor. I love you."

Lotor looked down, studying his eyes. Gaging his truthfulness. "Lance..."

Lotor twisted Lance's body into his lap and kissed him. He kept his lips closed, his tongue to himself, and kissed him gently.

Lance released a confused whimper.

Did he love him? Lotor, the man who snuffed out liars—heard his declaration of love and accepted it.

Lance tried to keep the sob welling up in his chest from escaping. He couldn't imagine what would happen if he cried right there.

He was a...

Screw it. Lance thought angrily. I can think about it. I am a prisoner. A slave. I didn't—I wouldn't come here, a warrior. A Paladin.

Lance waited for Lotor to respond. Lotor, the man who could sense lies, could not sense thoughts. Lance felt like laughing. He continued. And if I did, I would do so honorably. I would fight in the war, not wait for my boyfriend to come in and fuck—rape me as he so desires.

"You're crying," Lotor whispered, kissing away his tears.

Lance gasped, trying to draw in a breath through his unsteady lungs. "It's like... It's like when I cry during sex. It's all... Too much. It's good, but it's a lot to take in."

Lotor pondered that. "I can tell you're conflicted... It's difficult to see what's true and what's trickery when the subject one is observing, does not know the truth for themselves."

Lance froze. Oh, no. No, no, no...

Lotor started to rub his arms. "But I trust you. I trust you."

Lance touched Lotor's face. Lotor really was... Beautiful.

He was graceful and elegant. His very personality was painted on his features. His soft lips and purple eyes held a gentleness that Lance saw at all the right times. His eyes, they could narrow into the cold, intelligent, calculating person he hid beneath him. His greatest weapon...

"Lance?"

Lance leaned up, his tiny human form still unable to reach his lips. "I love you."

Lotor believed him. Lance believed himself.

No, it wasn't fair that he loved Lotor. It wasn't fair that he couldn't tell if he should. On one hand, Lotor kidnapped him and hurt him.

That was true.

Lance could acknowledge it, but he couldn't quite act on it yet. But it was true.

On the other hand, Lotor had perfect timing. He did everything for Lance. He kissed him softly when he wanted, not molesting his mouth when he was afraid. He chained him up when he asked—when he begged Lotor to spare him humiliation in front of Keith. He then got him the ankle cuffs to give him freedom.

He still let him fight. He still let him train.

And their sex life... It wasn't all one-sided. Lotor revealed in Lance's smaller stature, but Lance was in awe of Lotor's. He was constantly impressed by Lotor's strength, his muscles and... Well, his smoakin' body.

Lance didn't hate bottoming. It felt good. And still, Lotor sought for variation in their sex life. He would switch it around—not like that—but not always expecting Lance to be on his knees and blowing him, sometimes he did the work. When he wanted, he gave Lance entire hours of pure pleasure meant for him, no gain for Lotor himself.

Lance had decided to stop fighting his ability to feel a long time ago. Because how dare the Paladins think, even for a second, that they could judge him for this. They didn't know what it was like. They couldn't imagine. It had been months. Almost five, by Lance's count.

Screw them.

Lotor hesitated to kiss him. Lance caressed his face. "My Prince?"

"I want you to be a Prince," Lotor whispered. "I want you to be... Mine. I'm... I'm betraying all of my customs today, but why not? I want you."

"You want my Consent," Lance whispered.

Lotor's breathing slowed down. His breath turned hot and steady. He was waiting. Lance laughed, rejoicing in the startled and somewhat hurt expression on Lotor's face.

"How could you expect a human to know what Consent was?" Lance asked, watching Lotor's face flush violet and blue. "In human traditions, one party asks for the other parties consent. It is not—it's not assigned to one person to offer. It's a question. I would have told you that, one day, long ago..."

Lance turned away, climbing out of Lotor's lap and standing on the blanket, looking out at the lime-colored sky. "But you silenced me."

Lotor came to his side. Not touching or groping him into submission.

"Would you have offered?" Lotor asked. "If I had let you speak, would you had offered?"

"I would have offered a trade," Lance said. "My voice for my body."

Lotor put a hand on his shoulder. "Your everything."

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. "Everything everything?"

"Yes," Lotor smiled. "It's offering yourself up. Mind and soul. It's a sign of trust. Your consent can't be taken from you."

"I have to voluntarily give up... Everything. Every decision—"

"Yes."

"Every choice—"

Lotor sighed. "Yes, Lance. You—"

"Every—"

Lotor grabbed his arms. Lance's breath hitched. "Everything, Lance. You love me. Do you trust me?"

Lance thought. Yes, obviously. He was supposed to say yes. "No..."

Lotor pinched his lips. "I don't trust you either."

Lance turned to Lotor, folding his tiny body into the larger Galra. Lotor reluctantly cradled Lance's neck and back.

"Why?" Lance shivered.

"Because you're different. Every time I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt, you ignore me. You beg me for a reprieve. For mercy. To speak when I've told you not to. If you offered your consent, you'd continue. Wouldn't you?"

Lance nodded. "Please, if I offer my consent, you can't take my voice. You can take my body, whatever you want from it. You can pick my clothes and make my schedule."

Lance looked up and found Lotor's face angry and conflicted.

"But don't take away who I am."

"Offer your consent," Lotor prompted.

"Promise me you won't take my voice," Lance demanded.

Lotor's jaw quivered. "Trust me. Please trust me. Please offer."

Lance pushed away. Lotor grabbed his back, trying to keep him close.

"Lance—"

"It's my voice!" Lance screamed. His mind snapped back like it always did. He was hanging from the ceiling. Pain—and what should be pleasure had he not been so sore—ripped through his body. Lotor let him down. Lotor cleaned him up and healed him. Then, as Lance tried to have a conversation—the one about consent (the one they were having right now)—Lotor silenced him with a muzzle.

Lance had never felt so useless. He was just a hole. One Lotor used for hours at his own gain, completely free of any words, even any breathless gasps from Lance.

Every time it came back...

"Lance?" Lotor asked, realization dawning; Lance was about to freak out.

"Let me go! Don't touch me!" Lance screamed.

Lotor clawed at Lance's arms, trying to calm him down. "Lance! Please, it's me. You're safe. Lance—god, don't ruin this!"

"Fuck you!" Lance cried. "You need me to offer? Fuck you. I hate you! Let. Me. Go!"

Lotor did.

Lance danced away. He landed barefoot in the pink grass, anger curling inside his stomach.

"Don't act like I don't know you! You want me to offer, then you'll give me my voice anyway!" Lance screamed. "I know you! You want me to offer—as a show of trust—then you give me exactly what I want! Then I love you for it because, oh! He's so considerate!" Lance's voice was dripping, practically oozing sarcasm and contempt.

Lotor's expression looked shocked and hurt. "Am I really so predictable?"

"Yes!" Lance snapped. "You are. But do you know what I need? I need to know it. If I'm about to give you my everything, then you have to make promises. You have to give me the show of faith."

Lotor took a step towards Lance, grabbing both of his hands and kneeling in front of him. "You know, offering your consent is a two-way street, kind of."

"Oh, really?" Lance mocked.

"Lance?" Lotor asked, kneeling in front of him. "We have never been conventional. The Galra grant one request upon marriage, it's a sign of trust. But I'm not a proper Galra. My heart... Has always lied elsewhere."

"Two-way street," Lance reminded him

Lotor smiled. "Instead of say, granting a single request, I could grant you any number of requests, any day or every day, for the rest of our lives."

Lance's jaw dropped. "We... No, how could you even do that for me? The Galra must treat you poorly enough."

"It would be one of the many secrets we keep," Lotor said, putting a gold band, thin and light around each of Lance's wrists.

"Lotor?" Lance wondered.

"Gold, per Galra tradition, to show my ownership of you," Lotor explained. "The wrist cuffs serve the same function as the bands around your ankles. To the Galra, I own you. To the Paladins, I've forced you."

Lance knelt down with Lotor, their hands still clenched together.

"But I will be whatever you need, forever. If that's what it takes to have the honor of loving you."

Lance looked down at his wrists. Golden wedding bands. Not exactly what he pictured. Lance got an idea: a way he could show the Paladins he was with Lotor, while still maintaining this game. He wanted to take his hands and run them all over Lotor's body, but Lotor was clenching them so tightly in his Galra fists that Lance couldn't

"Lotor, I could set Keith free."

Lotor appeared concerned. "You think the Galra would allow the Red Lion to just... Fly away? Lance... Yes, they would have to, but—"

"I didn't say the Red Lion, I just said Keith. I set him free and I tell him I'm going to marry you to do it. He'll see it as a sacrifice."

Lotor smiled. "You would do that for me? You don't think it's too much?"

Lance shook his head. "I'm not ready to stop playing the game, but I'm ready to do this."

Lotor waited, his eyes pleading the question.

"Lotor, I'm offering my Consent."


	23. Chapter 23

**Keith**

* * *

After waiting over twenty days in mind-numbing captivity and solitude, Keith watched Lotor chain up his friend and drag him away.

Keith kept telling himself the same thing: that Lance was a survivor.

Lance was strong and capable. But he was also young; something Lotor had taken advantage of. Still, Lance could survive. He would learn to.

As Keith watched Lance kick and scream, he hoped something eventful would happen, soon. It wasn't over.

But nothing happened.

Keith waited for hours. He waited for an interrogation. He waited for a visit. He waited for a rescue.

Keith was back in solitude.

He spent every day thinking about escape. There were no loose nails or screws. His Galra blood was useless. He couldn't remove the shackles on his wrist. He couldn't open the door.

His clothes smelled so bad from never bathing. And he had yet to go nose blind. Besides the weird nourishment they had him on (that made him never have to use the bathroom; gross), Keith slept and that was it.

His sleep schedule had been thrown off by now and he was losing track of the days.

He figured any day, any second, that his team would save him. They did it for Allura.

If not them: the Blade of Marmora.

If not them: Lance.

Lance would have to break him out at some point. If Lance could break away from Lotor, he could get the Red Lion.

Keith tried summoning the red Lion himself.

He wouldn't come. Either he couldn't hear him in the cell, or he refused to leave Lance.

Keith got his old lion close to his Paladin.

Now, he was done with him.

Not once in the crappy little cell did Keith give up hope. He never thought his friends weren't trying. He never thought Lance wasn't fighting.

They would find a way one day. They would remember him. They would come for him.

* * *

The door opened with a bang.

It was loud, but not as loud as his screams of frustration. Keith sat there, numb and unregistering. His muscles were tired from the limited exercises he could do in his shackles. His limbs felt torn apart from all the stretching he did.

It wasn't until the druids approached him with electric sticks that he snapped out of it.

He jumped up, his vision blacking out despite all of the yoga and exercises he'd been doing.

He didn't see them prod him with the sticks, but he felt it. He twisted and curled around his ribs, feeling the unwelcome leathery hands wrap around his arms.

The sensation of something touching him sent tingles up and down his flesh. The Dark energy flowed through him, ruling him with hate and anger.

Discomfort and irritation. Then an overwhelming sensation of despair; the urge to give up. Keith thought sleep would save him. If he was tired, this tired, all the time...

Keith stayed standing, letting the druids guide him down the halls. The same halls he'd seen Lance dragged down... Eons ago. Keith practiced his grasp of time, hoping to further diagnose the severity of Lance's condition.

A seventeen-year-old kid ripped from his homeworld, leaving him exposed to circumstances unimaginable to him; leaving him vulnerable. Roughly half a year passed, then Keith left. Lance becomes isolated, Keith's team tells him this. He promises that if he can just track this new quintessence, he could come back. A month with Lotor on the ship; Lance makes a deal with him: training in exchange for his body. A month passes. Lance becomes callous and cold and detached. Lotor kidnaps Lance. Four months later, Keith is kidnapped. Keith is held hostage for an unknown amount of time before he actually sees Lance: alone and afraid.

Now, Lance had been alone again. Keith was finally getting out. Keith estimated Lance had spent six months in Galra custody. Seven in Lotor's clutches. Eight in Lotor's eye.

Keith felt the druids pull his arms apart in the metal room, ripping off his clothes with magic. Keith closed his eyes. Lance had been through this over a hundred times on this ship. Keith could go through it once.

The thought didn't help, it just made Keith feel more guilty.

Keith was forced into boiling hot water, chemicals scrubbing down his skin until he smelled like nothing. Then, he was doused in water so cold Keith felt his skin contract.

Gasping for breath, his fists clenched in front of his, Keith started to retrieved his vision. His sore, calloused wrists were scrubbed without an ounce of protest from Keith. The feeling was intense, but almost calming on the coarse skin.

Then they locked on newer, smaller, silver cuffs. Keith was led naked through the mysterious bathing room to an isolated chamber where he waited, again.

It could only have been a couple hours, but Keith's clothes were returned to him in near perfect condition. He slipped on his underwear and tight black pants, then his dark grey shirt. He yearned for his jacket and gloves, but he never wore those under his Paladin armor. They were safe in the castle.

Keith's shackles glowed blue, electrocuting him painfully until he hit the ground.

Keith woke up suspended on a slanted platform, his wrists tied above his head.

"Lance?" Keith eyes the glittering bronze figure approaching him.

Lance was dressed nicely, in brown capris and a red tank top with thick straps. The vest had an old-fashioned tail hanging off the back. Lance's ankles were cuffed with golden shackles, nearly identical to Keith's. The same pieces adorned his wrists.

Lance had a red pendant dangling proudly in his neck by a gold chain. It was chipped like an old arrowhead. A glittering, red arrowhead. His wrists and legs carried similar golden chains of varying thickness. His ears supported gold extensions, making them appear sharper and longer.

More Galra. More Altean. More of both.

For once, when Keith looked into Lance's eyes, he could see the black. Lance had a sharp and intense gaze, his pupils always narrowed to pints as he analyzed quietly. Now, the blue was a mere band around the black coins.

"Has he drugged you?"

Lance looked momentarily confused. Then terrified. Then calm.

"Keith," He said his name calmly and with surety.

Keith refused to acknowledge the purple and white presence looming behind Lance. Not for a second.

"Lance, what's happening?"

"I'm—" Lance looked confused, not out of a loss for words, more like he was lacking the way to say them. "I'm just saying goodbye. I... I won't be seeing you again. Ever."

Keith let his eyes drift down to Lance's neck. The red arrow wasn't alone, it was accompanied by a golden ring. A small gold chain attached it to the figure behind him. A collar.

"Lance," Keith snarled, his hope of Lance saving the two of them diminishing. "You. Are. In. Chains."

Lance looked afraid. He didn't glance nervously behind him; he didn't acknowledge Lotor. He schooled his expression into one of pity. Pity for Keith.

Like Keith didn't understand.

Keith's breathing turned ragged. His anger died and morphed into despair. "Lance?"

Lance didn't respond. They both knew he wasn't asking for anything.

Keith wanted to keep his emotions in check. He was in Lotor's presence. He had to protect Lance, even in the smallest of ways. But he failed. His body quivered and tears fell onto his chest.

"L—Lance, I'm sorry," Keith cried. "Please, come back. Just come back."

Lance finally looked over his shoulder. "I need to speak to him alone."

Keith silenced his sobbing, trying to hear Lotor's response. His chest still rocked with pain.

"That," Lotor pulled the chain, yanking Lance back by his neck. He tangled Lance's hair in his fist. "Is not our arrangement."

"And what is your arrangement?" Keith asked. "What more can he give you? You can't take any more from him."

Lotor shoved Lance closer, forcing the two boys so close Keith could feel the warmth of Lance's skin. "I'm marrying him."

Period. No explanation. No excuse. No follow-up. Just, 'I'm marrying him.'

"Lance... No." Keith thought if he rejected it, he could stop it from happening. "Nothing will change. He can't take more from you married, okay? You can fight back and keep yourself."

"Keith..."

"Don't do it."

Lotor laughed. "That's touching, but you cannot command a prince."

Keith flinched, Lotor's obnoxious voice adding a level of severity to the situation.

"Yes he can," Lance continued. "I'm giving him everything he wants. Forever. No fighting anymore. He has my complete permission for... everything."

Keith's mouth filled with blood. "Your Consent."

"You're aware of this tradition?" Lotor asked softly, glaring at Keith with a dangerous threat in his eyes.

Because Lance didn't know.

Lance didn't know that it was a fear tactic. An interrogation tactic. A tool used by the Galra Empire's highest generals to make slaves or gain information. Because offering your permission to your own pain will fuck you up. In return...

"Your favor?" Keith asked dryly, witnessing a smug and approving look from Lotor.

They both knew this was a tradition of the Empire. Not the Galra.

Lance didn't. Oh, Lance... What other lies had Lotor told him? Is Lance even aware that Lotor is spinning his head around, deciding where Lance's trust should be?

"Don't do this for me!" Keith begged, knowing full well that Lotor's exposure would lead to Lance's pain. "I'm not worth it."

"It's already done," Lotor declared.

Lance frowned. "I—I wasn't telling him—"

"What?" Lotor asked his teeth threateningly close to Lance's earpiece. "Why not? He won't be around for much longer."

Lotor laughed, rejoicing in the realization on Keith's face.

"We're already married, but my sweet, sweet husband wanted to grant his wish before... Consummation."

Keith closed his eyes, listening to Lotor laugh again.

"Let's show him, shall we?" Then he heard a muffled yelp.

Keith's eyes shot open, he couldn't help it, and he saw Lotor lifting Lance off the ground, gazing into his eyes possessive, yet, devotedly. For a moment, Keith thought it was possible that Lotor loved Lance. But he couldn't. He didn't.

He didn't know love.

Lance hesitated, grunting again when Lotor lost his patience, forcing his tongue down Lance's throat. Lance's eyes were wide and afraid, his resistance present but uninspired. His discomfort had his pushing back with no real effort. Or a tired effort. Keith couldn't put his finger on it.

Lance looked over at Keith, mortified as Lotor's tongue forced his way into every corner of his mouth—in front of Keith. So Lance twisted his head, almost hiding his expression behind Lotor's head, before closing his eyes.

He opened his mouth more, his lips moving hesitantly and lazily and shallowly. His open mouth was a learned habit from Lotor's Galra tongue.

Keith clenched his eyes shut, hiding from the event in darkness. He heard a voice, timid and sure, quiet but strong: "That's enough."

Keith glanced up, looking at Lotor's face. Lotor gazed with a knowing glint in his eye. He nodded subtly, but Keith saw it. He clenched his eyes shut again, trying to hide this fact.

So, Lance could control him somehow. As they departed, Lance stopped, looking at Keith one last time. Then, he looped his arm in Lotor's and they strode out together.


	24. Chapter 24

**Lance**

* * *

"So good," Lotor panted, backing Lance into the wall. "You did," He said, between kisses to Lance's neck. "So good."

With the overwhelming barrage of emotions in Lance's heart, it felt good to hear that.

"Really?" Lance clung to Lotor's body. "I didn't think he'd believe me."

Lotor laughed against Lance's neck, dipping him down until his back was bent in half. "How could he not? You were perfect."

Lance smiled, his mouth falling open as Lotor kissed his neck.

"I thought we weren't supposed to... Do anything until the wedding." Lance entwined his fingers in Lotor's hair. And speaking of which: why did Lotor want Keith to think they'd already married?

"I thought we weren't conventional," Lotor countered.

Lance gasped as he felt Lotor's fingertips dance under his loose clothes. Electric shocks tore through his spine as Lotor grazed his skin teasingly.

"No," Lance thought back to Keith. Seeing him strung up in that room, the realization dawning that Lance was, in fact, being 'forced against his will,' it spun Lance's head inside out. Lance was going to marry Lotor and Keith was going to think he was being held against his will. That Lance was a tragic hero. "We are not."

Lotor's fingers mapped Lance's body out before clenching around his thighs, tight and fast. Lance's heart started beating in an unusual manner as Lotor threw him against the wall. Their limbs crashed together, an intimate and brutal knot.

"My Prince," Lance gasped, his mind losing itself. Maybe, someday... Keith would rescue Lance. Lance would be grateful. Then... "Would you steal me back?"

Lotor paused, following Lance's train of thought. "Without hesitation. With everything I have. I'll cut them down."

"Wait—" Lance coughed. "I'm sorry, I mean, please. Please, don't kill them."

Lotor took a deep breath, hiding his expression in Lance's neck. "If they attack us—"

"Do what you have to do, but keep them alive. They have to—they have to know I'm yours."

They had to know Lotor was holding Lance against his will; physically. Not that Lance was incapable of leaving; mentally.

A moment ago, conflict running rampant controlled his thoughts. What was he doing? Why bother fooling Keith? How could he want to be with Lotor while feeling the urge to... Save face?

That was all gone now. Now he was confronted with the overpowering sensation of Lotor forcing him again. Of Lotor's hands pinching and groping. His teeth hurting. His tongue demanding. Of him being forced.

Lance found himself transported back into a world where he had the strength to fight back. Where Lotor had to force him.

Lotor lifted Lance off the floor. His thigh wedged between Lance's legs, forcing him to straddle Lotor's massive muscles.

Lance liked it. He liked that Lotor was forcing him against his will. It felt like the good 'ol days, where Lotor maintained constant control. He never let up. He never passed the torch.

And when Lotor found himself deeply in love with Lance, or perhaps, more aware of it, he would kiss him slippery and blind him with stimulation.

"But," Lotor growled against his throat. "My little actor isn't finished with his show, it seems."

Lance shook his head. "Please, Lotor. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

Lotor bit Lance's hurting his hip bone with an intense squeeze. "No, you won't," Lotor instructed him. "You are a prisoner. A little... Pretty, red bride. A gift to the Prince of the Galra. You won't do a thing I say."

Lance nodded, his body tensing as his arousal sparked new pain.

"No, you will be tied up," Lotor revealed, his thumb dancing underneath Lance's adam's apple. "And forced to endure an unwanted, crippling pleasure."

Adrenaline pumped through Lance's veins, but he didn't feel endangered. He fought back with feigned interest, becoming subdued too easily. A challenged was residing in Lotor's eyes.

"No fighting. No skill," Lotor whispered, abandoning the game. "None of that fantastic talent. Just your human strength against mine."

Lance gasped, the thigh between his legs rubbing upwards. "Yes."

So Lance fought a battle he couldn't win. Lotor's natural strength easily subduing him. Lance fought back with more rigor, more confidence. Lotor still won.

"By the time I'm finished with you, you will be deliriously defeated. You won't remember your name, just your job." Lotor prodded his fingers into Lance's ass through the fabric. "You won't be able to live without something in your ass, ever grateful for my cock. Ever been fucked by a Galra, little Paladin?"

Lance struggled, some intense instinct taking him over. He had to fight back. He had to stop himself from becoming a horny mess, mewling for cock and friction... Something Lotor was very well capable of.

Just by looking at him, Keith asked if Lotor was drugging Lance. Lance wondered if his injection was wearing off. Shot or no shot, Lance became consumed by the fear of losing himself again. Because... Was Lance ever free? If ingesting Lotor's semen made him a dazed mess, was happened when it was inside him?

Like alcohol in a tampon... If placed up the ass it could get you drunk. Has Lance been himself since arriving? What happened to the boy who fought with everything he had on the green lion?

"Such a good little actor," Lotor complimented him as Lance began to freeze up and struggle for real. "So good for me. Such a pretty hole to fit my cock into. Forever."

Lance moaned the idea of endless pleasure speaking to his hardening member. How did Lance become this?

Lotor pushed down on that spot on Lance's neck. "In ten thousand years, you will be fucked to mindless devotion. Desperate for your next fix of me."

Lance pushed harder against Lotor, his oxygen not making it passed his throat as Lotor choked him.

"You like that, baby? You like that?"

Lotor released him, dropping him onto the floor.

Lance fell on his hands and knees, gasping for air. But he wasn't afraid. He was giving himself to Lotor for the rest of his existence. He was going to live ten thousand years of quintessence-fueled bliss. None of it mattered. Soon, Lotor would take it all away again.

Lotor's hands explored Lance's body in the revealing, see-through strips of cloth. "Time to come with me, Sweet Paladin, that human hole needs resizing."

And there wasn't a damn thing Lance could, or rather wanted to do about it.

* * *

Lance trembled from the orgasm. Lotor had made sure to do it without ever touching his cock or his hole. He groped him and bit him until the boy couldn't take it anymore. Lance came all over his ceremonial clothes, painting the white.

His hands were tied together at the wrist. His ankles were linked by powerful magnets in the new, beautiful, golden cuffs. Another strap was tightened around his shins, just below the knee. Another mid-thigh.

Lance trembled from the orgasms, his limbs tied up sweetly in Lotor's private quarter's. Soon to be his own room. Their room.

Lotor yanked the knot tight. Lance yelped a muffled cry as Lotor finished with his latest addition to the set: the gag.

It wasn't real. It wasn't a ball gag or a ring gag. There was nothing lying uncomfortably in his mouth. It was a simple strip of cloth tied over his lips. Something Lance could talk through easily. Yet, Lance was resigned to clenching his teeth together and groaning perfectly for his future husband. His captor. His lover.

Lance arched his back, entertaining fast convulsions of his chest. His exaggerated breathing and artificial fear turned Lotor into a monster. Lance's felt teeth behind his ear, cutting into his throat.

Everything about the erotic bite made Lance want to exhale a perfect, erotic sigh. But Lance clenched his teeth together. He forced the sigh into a strangled groan: erotic and reluctant.

Lotor's breath around his neck smelled of metal. Wet heat dripped from the open wounds. Lance's face flushed with arousal. Lotor was hurting him. And he liked it.

"Seems like my little prize requires more convincing. You cannot fight forever," Lotor purred.

Lance panted, knowing Lotor was right. Even with the threat of rape completely fabricated, Lance would give in to the ache burning through his limbs.

He was high on the game. Lotor was too.

"In time, you will be a royal bred-concubine," Lotor growled. "The perfect cock holder."

Lance trembled as his pulsing rim kissed the air.

"Now," Lotor jerked Lance up, almost to a standing position. "Let's see how you take orders. Grab those bars, if you let yourself fall any lower than this, you'll get bitten. Hard."

Lance mumbled a muffled agreement, keeping himself suspended by the headboard. His feet barely touched the bed, but they would if he unbent his knees or arms.

A thin, taunting wire touched Lance's rim. He jolted from the sensation, trying to determine the object Lotor was about to use against him. It pushed further, and Lance should've known from the start that it was his tongue, the dampness being soaked into Lance's waiting hole. The Galra-Altean dexterity was something to be marveled by. It was easily the most flexible and strong part of Lotor's body. One of the many tools for Lance's destruction at his disposal.

Lance whimpered, mumbling nonsensically through the gag.

Lotor kept his teasing dance, sending shocks and jolts up Lance's spine. Lance slipped, almost letting himself fall to the bed, his knees had grazed the sheets when he jerked himself up. He clenched his muscles, his head warning him not to tire himself out.

Lotor's heated and shallow breath played on Lance's ass, then Lance felt teeth. A sharp fang pushed into the sensitive and flexible flesh of Lance's ass; not breaking, not drawing blood. The fang vanished, reappearing some fearsome ticks later on the inside of Lance's right cheek.

The pressure left. Only a pinch and tingle remaining where it had been felt last.

Lance waited in agonizing fear; knowing it would hurt. He knew it would break tender flesh, freeing warm blood to bath his body. His neck and parts of his back were sticky from the smallest trickles of blood.

Lance screamed, mostly in shock. He was expecting more pokes and prods. He thought Lotor would prick his way up to his neck before marking him where everyone could see.

Sharp teeth pierced the delicate skin right above his right ass cheek. They clung to his body, hands holding him in place to not rip or shred. By the time Lotor released his bite, the wounds were clean. No veins or arteries pierced. Lance tried not to feel disgusted by the feel of blood down his skin... And he wasn't.

It was like sweat. Hot sweat on sticky bodies intertwined. Slick fluid and semen seeping out of every hole in his body. Purple velvet arms locking him, imprisoning him. Lotor's lips on his ear and neck. A strong tongue fucking his mouth into oblivion.

Lance felt how turned on he was as he rocked his body. He was trying to get feeling in his hard cock. He was soothing the staggering rate of his heart. His lips panting a name under the tight cloth.

Lotor's hands found their way down the sides of Lance's form. He forced the Paladin's cheeks open, his strong tongue licking the inside of each cheek. "I did not think you would be so easy to break, young Paladin."

Lance groaned in frustration, his arms tired already.

"There he is. There's my brave little fighter."

Lotor swirled his tongue around Lance's rim; never passing it, but opening him up nonetheless.

Lance felt small portions of his tight muscle being sucked between two powerful slices of flesh. Lotor laughed as he sucked at Lance's ass, no doubt reveling in Lance's struggle. As Lance's arms shook, he mourned the realization that Lotor had yet to dip inside.

No, no, no. Lance tried to say.

Lotor's chuckle sent vibrations through his ass. Lance gripped his hands tight, undoubtedly making rips and calluses.

Lance couldn't take any more gentle teasing and slow movements. He was going to fall. Lotor was going to hold him down and bite him. He was going to inflict pain for his pleasure. It wasn't going to stop for Lance.

Like every time Lance begged for a reprieve. For a get out of jail free card. For two seconds to breath.

Lance fell, his legs shaking as his body began to tremble. Lotor planted his shin across Lance's thighs as an iron bar. Inescapable and all powerful. Lance shivered on the ground; the air on his chest too cold and the sheets against his back too warm.

"L—Lotor..." Lance quivered.

"You're in such trouble now... Sweet Paladin."

"H—H—Huh?" Lance whimpered.

"Oh, did you almost come?" Lotor frowned. "I am so sorry. Here, let me help."

Lotor wrapped his hand around Lance's cock. The nerves sparked in Lance's member, causing more of a pained groan than a pleasurable sigh. How many times had Lance finished? How quickly had he recovered?

More questions to worry about. What was Lotor doing to him?

Lance looked down at Lotor's bare member, dark purple at the base and swollen pink at the tip.

"Do you like what you see?" Lotor mocked. "Few get the privilege of bowing to their emperor unclothed."

"Emperor?" Lance gasped.

Lotor growled, new delight and power consuming his face.

"Y—Yes, your highness. Your majesty."

Lotor ran his hand tauntingly down the side of his own chest. He grabbed the base of his cock, hovering over Lance as he stroked himself. The noises that consumed his conscious hurt Lance's heart with every gasp.

"Let me go," Lance said, his heart boiling.

"You're not going anywhere. Never again." Lotor clutched his throat threateningly.

"Lotor—ah! Sorry! No, my emperor, please. Uh..."

"I can't take anymore!" Lance pleaded, his mind snapping. "Stop!"

"Few have the honor of serving their Emperor."

Lance trembled, his body shutting down. His mind snapped into sudden clarity. This wasn't going to end. Not only did Lotor think he was acting, but there wasn't anything Lance could say to convince him to stop.

Lance closed his eyes, the sweat uncomfortable on his upper lip.

Lance freed his hands, breaking Lotor's rule that Lance shows no skill. Lotor didn't notice. Lance rubbed Lotor's upper thighs. He kneaded the flesh inside his legs, watching Lotor react.

Once Lotor caught on, he released his member, staring down at Lance in warning.

"What can I do?" Lance asked, not having to sneak in the tremor in his voice. "What do you need to make it stop?"

Lotor leaned down, biting Lance's ear. Thankfully, he didn't break the skin. "I need you to let me suck you off."

Lance froze. "What?"

Lotor kissed his cheek. "I haven't had you as my own since you discovered that—that traitorous half breed was on the ship. My ship."

Lotor grabbed Lance's arms, pulling him up so he was sitting on Lotor's lap. In Lotor's anger, Lance noticed his cock was turning flaccid.

Lotor continued. "I have taken your pride—held you down so, even when they couldn't see you, they would think I was forcing you. You, my own Prince: the love of my life. And after... Even after you gave me that blowjob I realized it wasn't better. You weren't over it," Lotor went quite. "You were just doing what you did today. You made a 'noble sacrifice' to appease me like I was some abuser. Some abductor holding you hostage."

Lance leaned forward and hugged Lotor. "I'm sorry."

Lotor braced his back, his nose teasing the bite marks. "Prove it."

Lance pulled away, looking at Lotor's golden eyes.

"Let me make you feel good again."

Lance swallowed nodded his head quickly. Lotor kissed him with gratefulness and desperation. He leaned Lance gently back on the bed. Lance didn't know when, but Lotor had removed his bonds. At some point, Lance had been freed and he didn't even realize it.

Somehow, Lotor always knew when Lance needed his help the most. Even when—especially when Lance didn't know how to ask for it.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Lotor**

* * *

Lance had infected Lotor's mind with an uncontrollable obsession.

Normally, the sight of Lance's body covering Lotor's chest brought on a flood of peaceful emotions. There was the awe of Lance's form and presence. There was the relief that he was Lotor's. There was the faint worry for Lance's well being; that he would drop and scream or fight back again.

Now, even Lotor could acknowledge the change.

His fiance—the human word Lotor much preferred to the possessive, Galra alternatives—lay shaking and fully awake over Lotor.

This wasn't the bliss-filled Lance that passed out in Lotor's arms, beautifully spent. This was an overstimulated, fearful Lance, suffering the aftershocks of what Lotor inflicted upon him.

Instead of still hands, admiring Lance's body or gently drifting across his skin, he dug his fingers into flesh with strength and purpose.

The golden human on Lotor's bed was beautiful in all the right ways. Lotor caught a glint of the people light reflected in Lance's hair.

Lotor ran his fingers through the front, discussing small strands of white hidden in the chocolate. Lotor's fingers clenched a fistful of the hair, eliciting an exasperated groan from his fiance. Lotor wondered if those whites were there for him because he was Altean to the core.

Lotor pulled Lance closer, realizing he hadn't stolen a 'willing' kiss from the young human since their engagement. Lotor was rewriting their past. He was erasing the months of frustration and delicate grooming on the castle. He was especially obliterating that fit of rebellion and resistance from their first time on the green lion. He was dissolving the days of Lance's imprisonment. Lotor, with a mournful heart, realized he was even replacing the months together on the ship; tainted with Lance's freakouts.

Lotor was here, with Lance in his arms. He took the Paladin and asked how long he could hold out. He bit him and scratched him the previous night. Their first time as an engaged couple. Perhaps, the first time that mattered.

The kidnapped paladin of Voltron: defeated.

"Done fighting, are we?"

Lance tilted his head up, the blues of his eyes compressed into thin rings. "Y—Yes, my prince."

"Your prince?" Lotor mocked. "Are defeated so easily?"

Lance huffed softly, resting his head back on Lotor's chest.

Lotor petted his back, bending his spine and fondling his skin. "You'd let me do anything to you? Wouldn't you?"

Lance huffed again. "Lotor..." He shivered. "Gently, p—please."

A small part of Lotor's brain fully intended on doing just that. But he wasn't done exploring Lance yet. His hands roughly traveled up and down Lance's muscles.

Lance mumbled Lotor's name like a tired plea.

"I will, Lance. I will." He squeezed Lance's thighs. "I'm almost done."

Once Lotor remembered that he and Lance were not actually starting over, he remembered that Lance was someone very meaningful to him. Someone with the right to ask this of Lotor.

Lance purred softly, melting into Lotor's chest. "Better?"

"Yes," Lance sighed.

"Okay. You've done enough, prince. Although..." Lotor watched Lance pinch his back muscles. "No, then. Sleep."

* * *

"I'm just a little—"

"Scared?" Lotor asked as he stroked Lance's cheek.

"Worried," The paladin corrected stubbornly.

Lotor grabbed his hand, attempting to kiss it.

"Oh, no you don't." Lance snapped it away. "I didn't just go through your weird cleansing ritual for it to be ruined by your saliva. Nope. Think again."

Lotor smiled. "Well, you're not quite done. Lance, it's not as scary as it seems. Just walk out, they'll lower you into the pool and... It'll start to glow. Then you walk out and join me through those doors."

"Join you?" Lances winced.

"Yes. We haven't officially..." Lotor leaned in. "Sealed the union."

Lance stood surprisingly still. "What if I can't—what if I freak out?"

Lotor glanced through the gap in the doors. No one was watching. No one was close. Lotor gently guided Lance's head up, kissing him softly on the lips.

"That's not the most reassuring response in the world."

"Did it help, at least, a little bit?" Lance, upon realizing what Lotor was looking for, nodded his head. Lotor frowned. "Go ahead, Lance." He gestured through the doors.

"I..." Lance whispered, mouth pinching shut.

Lotor eased back, anxious to be connected to Lance, but not so much that he can't see the look on the young Paladins face. "Yes, Lance?"

"Well, I—uh—" Lance turned away. "I mean, this is it. I'm—I'm marrying you."

Lotor's heart seized. Was Lance revoking his Consent? He couldn't have been. No, Lance was speaking with facts, not expressing regrets.

"Yes, Lance—" Lotor fumbled over the words. "This is it."

Lance held his hand out to him, not quite touching his fingers. They both knew how important it was that they didn't touch until after. Lotor more than Lance, though.

"I never pictured my wedding day, back home. I never... Somehow it doesn't feel like it. I may have never pictured getting married, but I imagined being married. I don't think it will be the same."

Lotor pulled his hand away, watching Lance's fall to his side. "It can be."

"No." Lance folded his arms. He sounded determined. He sounded sure. He sounded like he did long before...

Lance looked into Lotor's eyes, a challenge on his face. "It will never be the same."

Lotor bit his lip. Lance was following the same pattern he always did. Always, before he fought, he'd grow still and strong. Lotor had to yield, this time. "No..." Lotor said in mock realization. "I don't suppose it can."

Lance relaxed, his shoulders falling back to their usual place, hunched down and folding in on himself. The stance invited Lotor to hug him, but they couldn't touch.

Lance blushed, perhaps, contemplating saying more, before walking through the doors.

Lotor booked it down the stairs, afraid to miss even one second of the ceremony. When he arrived at the pool of quintessence, he looked up to see Lance standing on the one-way glass.

Lance shed his robe, standing fully naked at the foot of the pool, the one connected to Lotor's.

Lotor shed his clothes and stepped into the glass tank. Slowly, it started to fill with white-yellow liquid, the purest form of quintessence Lotor had achieved yet; straight from the Altean colony. As the tank started to fill, Lotor laid down, floating in the material as it rose.

After a certain point, Lotor started to sink, hovering in the middle of the tank as it closed around his body. He looked up, seeing the shadow of Lance laying down in a similar pattern directly above him.

Once Lotor began to feel overwhelmed, like the quintessence was too much for him, too much for anyone, he felt himself extend beyond it. His very essence leaking out and flowing up to Lance's body; fusing them together. Sealing them as one for good.

* * *

Lance hadn't handled it as well as Lotor predicted.

When he arrived in the corridor, waiting to walk Lance back to their chambers, the man did not come through.

The druid told him it was taking longer for him to absorb Lotor's quintessence than they thought. Lotor waited patiently, resisting every urge to go hold Lance's hand.

If he did that, Lance would be affected. He would start to absorb more than he could handle, he would perish. If Lotor even went in the room, it would distract Lance.

Lotor had to wait for Lance to come through.

He stood in the center of the hall, pacing as he got anxious. Was Lance even alive? Lotor couldn't tell. Normally, Lotor could almost sense Lance from a distance. His Altean blood sensed the other being as they grew closer. Lotor had even told Lance about this.

But now, all Lotor could feel was overloaded. He felt like he was still in that pool, absorbing so much energy that he started to melt. He still felt like that—like a part of him was in there.

Was that Lance?

No, that was Lotor. Lotor's quintessence swimming in Lance's veins. Lotor called on it, hoping to gain a certain amount of control over Lance. Hoping he could sway him from the other room.

Lotor closed his eyes. Survive. Live. Fight. Find me.

Come home.

When Lotor opened his eyes, the light was bleeding in through the open doors. Lance stood there, adorned in gold and purple clothing, his eyes glowing yellow. Lotor knew his eyes were too, at the moment, but not like Lance's. Lance's weren't yellow—they were white. Blue and white.

"Lotor," Lance declared an edge to his voice that terrified Lotor.

Lotor tried to calm him. He reached out, sensing the strings of energy between them; connecting them. He played them like an instrument, hoping to ease Lance into submission.

Lance's head angled down, his eyes flashing a brilliant blue and white. Lotor felt weak, like the restraints on Lance were tearing through Lotor's body. It hurt.

Lotor snapped away, looking at the challenging expression on Lance's face. The angered expression that was sneering at Lotor right this second.

Lance was looking down on him. Lance was challenging him. He was fighting him.

Their inner quintessence battled through his veins and Lance was winning. He was powerful. His eyes shining powerful blue but with the fire of the Red Lion.

In hoping to hold Lance to himself forever, Lotor had created his worst nightmare.


	26. Chapter 26

**Lance**

* * *

Lotor felt good beneath Lance's fingers.

Like, stars-behind-the-eyes-exploding amazing. Lance kept pushing into Lotor's skin; his fingertips grazing the defined muscles, his palms pushing down on Lotor's chest. He was propping himself up, for once. His body was arching around Lotor's all-powerful member, smooth and gentle.

Lotor looked beautiful. His arms laid to the side, flexing and gripping at the sheets. Occasionally, Lance would feel Lotor's fingers prodding at his thighs, borderline clutching his skin. Lotors malpractice of self-restraint was adorable. Was he so rich and spoiled? Or was Lance that good? Lance reached out, petting the white hair that cascaded around his pillow in a waterfall. The blue light shining from Lance's eyes highlighted his hair in colorful streaks.

Lance reached down, cupping Lotor's cheek as he sank down again, still several inches from the base. Lotor looked up, maintaining eye contact before shying away from the bright light again.

Lance moaned softly. He drew out his next move, feeling Lotor's cock gripping and grazing every inch of Lance's sensitive, lubed walls.

Oh, Lotor stretched him so good today. Maybe it was because it was their first time as a couple. They were 'sealing the union.' Maybe it was because Lance had jumped on the bed, looking over his shoulder with two fingers pressing in—an eerily calm expression on his face. Lotor waited, hesitant to touch his husband for the first time. Then, his tongue worked magic and his fingers sparked Lance's first orgasm with gentle ministrations. His refractory period temporarily disabled by the quintessence pool.

The churning power in Lance's veins made Lotor look small. The gigantic, ten-thousand-year-old Galra looked... Attainable. Lotor looked less like a god, more like a lover. The keys to his unending pleasure were within Lance's grasp. The secrets to his joy were a delicious secret whispered in his ear. Lance wanted to give him all of those things.

Why would you want to give your husband anything else? There was no room for pain. No place for punishment. Fear and misery were a thing of the past.

Lotor; his equal.

"Yes, Lance," Lotor panted, unwittingly agreeing to Lance's silent thoughts.

Lotor jerked his hips up, burrowing deeper and releasing a sharp gasp. Lance pulled himself further up with a moan, Lotor's cock sliding against his prostate. Lance braced one hand on Lotor's chest, the other on the Galra's bent knee. He stared Lotor down challengingly. Lotor grunted in frustration, dropping his hands back to his side. He gripped the sheets like they were his only connection to reality.

Lance continued to work slowly, using Lotor to work himself over in a different way. Oh, this was so different from how Lotor did it. It was nice. Lance worked Lotor's cock like a tool. It didn't push and molest or diminish Lance into a grateful, wanton mess. It massaged and caressed. Lance felt good. No underlying sensations, just a gentle pleasure as he rubbed the tip of his lover's—no, his husbands cock against his prostate. Lance never sank all the way down. But it was soon tainted by something akin to bitterness.

Lotor, a warrior and prince, born and bred, showed his love in the strangest most frustrating ways. He could overwhelm Lance with his affections. Lotor tried often, restraining himself to perform gentler acts of passion—ever like this.

Lance wanted to have this, sprawled out on the bed as Lotor took control. But Lance didn't want to take his pleasure like this. He didn't want his thoughts to ruin another moment with Lotor like they always did.

Lance looked down, staring at Lotor's swollen lips and trembling jaw. His eyes were unfocused but understanding. Lance could see the gears turning in his brain as he worked something out. Like he was realizing something.

Lance gave him what he wanted. After all, Lance's refractory period seemed to be out the window—if the dried cum on their chests and sheets were any indication. Lotor clutched the sheets with trembling hands, his hips shaking. A reserved and well-hidden fear buried in his eyes.

Poor man. He must think Lance is such a tease. That fear—that unexplainable hesitation Lotor was practicing—wasn't going to last forever. Lance couldn't frustrate him into punishing him. Lance sank down suddenly, crying out at the sensation. He'd forgotten what that felt like, to have Lotor so deep it felt unnatural. To have the tip of Lotor's cock push past his rim, prostate, then into the impossibly sensitive realm beyond, right where Lotor nests.

Lance didn't realize he was trembling. Nor did he take note of when Lotor sat up, shifting inside Lance to open up his hole even more.

Lotor was whispering unintelligible words. Lance stopped shaking and the world turned bright again. Lotor's words became more understandable.

"Did you fall, my prince? Can I move out without overstimulating you?" Lotor pressed his forehead to Lance's. I know you've already finished—we can stop."

"Lotor... No. I can do it. I just—I didn't know."

Lotor paused. The hesitation slowly morphed into a slow but sure confidence. He grabbed Lance pulling him up slowly. Lance groaned as he slid up Lotor's cock. The head tugged at his rim, sending shocks through his body.

"Oh, it feels so good there."

Lotor chuckled. "Yes, my love. Are you really so surprised I know you better?"

Lance shook his head. "Then—" Lance sighed, accepting the fact that Lotor was going to take what he wanted. Lance's moment in the sun was over. "Then why don't you use that knowledge against me?"

Lotor smirked. His smug expression was beautifully lit by a sudden, harsh white light emanating from Lance's eyes. Lotor stilled, looking away from Lance's eyes. Did Lotor not want him? Was Lance not good enough now?

Lance felt the power churning in his veins. He was pumped on quintessence, seeing Lotor as nothing more than a lover. Some he loved and loved to love.

"Do you see me?" Lance asked, cupping Lotor's face. "Do you still see me when you look at me?"

Lotor hugged Lance firmly, pulling away only to turn him around. The head of Lotor's cock popped out with a wet snap. Once Lance was facing away from Lotor, his heart crumbling as Lotor failed to answer his question.

But, somehow, before it could boil into an unstoppable rage, Lotor did exactly the right thing. He always did exactly the right thing.

Lotor guided Lance to lay against Lotor's chest; skin on skin. Heat and sweat. He brushed Lance's now-long hair away from his neck, pressing his lips against Lance's cheek. "No one sees you like I do."

Lotor pushed in. He braced for the lengthy penetration, but it stopped. Lotor rocked the tip of his cock so slowly against his prostate Lance melted in his arms.

Lance closed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

"No one knows you."

Oh, it was so good. So gentle. So slow. So—firm. So strong against his sweet spot.

Lotor bit Lance's ear. "Because no one knows our secret. No one knows you like I do. Our secret: your strength. Your bravery."

Lotor bounced Lance up and down perfectly. He fucked him in a way he could only a human. He kissed and held Lance in a way only a Galra could. Never before had Lance considered, well, size. His head rested under Lotor's chin. His legs molded perfectly over Lotor's hips. Lotor was attractively tall. Impossibly strong. It was good.

And, because Lotor always knows when to do the right thing, he never pushed in farther.

"You are the strongest."

* * *

Lotor hadn't touched Lance since they sealed the union. He kept a distance, running off to god knows where to work. Maybe Lance should explain to him the concept of a honeymoon...

But at least Lance's routine was different. He could train when he wanted. The only time he had to was when Lotor trained with him.

Lance could read Galra files... All stories translated for him, but entertaining tales nonetheless. Lance had a full wardrobe. An arsenal of jewelry. A room of cosmetics. Servants who tended to his every will.

He really liked the servants. They might not ever talk to him, but they were there. Lance could see people moving around him, working and moving and breathing. Unlike the guards, who stood emotionless in the corner.

Lance tried again, desperately trying to make eye contact with one of his new servants—all smaller or equal in stature to make him more comfortable—but they flinched away.

It was the eyes.

Even Lance hated his new eyes.

* * *

 

Lance has been summoned to speak to the Prince.

Yeah, Lotor sent for him during work hours. Lance dressed up. He slipped on several outfits. One slinky, smooth, and transparent—but he didn't want to sleep with Lotor that bad. Not yet. Another was blue and complimented his eyes, but Lotor liked him in red. Finally, Lance solved the puzzle.

He marched confidently down the hall, watching the doors to Lotor's quarters open as he approached.

Lance stood before Lotor in a purple outfit—dark enough to flatter his glowing white-blue eyes. It was full-length pants, concealing the scars on his ankles from the old cuffs. He wore dark black boots, dark purple pants, and a fashionable sleeveless vest that screamed warrior while... Well, still showing off the golden cuffs around his arms—Lotor's symbol of ownership.

Lotor took in the sight with reservation. Lance could almost feel the cords thumping in his vein, thinking and remembering. Lotor turned Lance into a game: fight, lose, then fuck.

Lance was strong. Lotor knew it, but Lance was reminding him why he caught his eye.

Lotor's chin raised; approval.

Lotor planted his feet apart. "Leave us."

The guards left. Many filed out, all but two. The guards by the doors remained.

"I meant everyone."

They froze. Clearly, Lotor never did this. Through all his memories, Lance saw them there. The two half-galra who guarded Lotor every day. They always stood in the back. They saw and heard everything. They saw Lance's naked body. They heard his moans.

Lance had gone blind to them. He pretended like they were empty medieval decorations. Empty suits.

"Now!" Lotor yelled. He then calmed down. "Please, I wish to be with my husband. Alone, thank you."

One stepped forward. The woman. "Lotor..." She removed her helmet. She made eye contact with Lotor, as if she was she was more than a guard to him.

"Listen to me," Lotor explained. "I know who Lance was. I know your concern. But he and I are bound. I trust him. Trust him as well."

She pinched her lips, eyeing Lance with something... Something.

"Yes, of course."

"And I appreciate your concern, genuinely." Lotor waved his hand to the door.

They left. The guard made eye contact with Lance, her gaze steely. Steel as stone... Stone... Stone... A flash of concern...

Then she was gone. The doors closed.

Two thick, heavy metal doors stood looming over him. Lance expected fear. He expected to freak out. The blue storm inside him kept him calm.

Lance turned back to Lotor, smiling.

"I am so... So proud of how far you've come."

Lance but his cheek. "Yeah? I couldn't have gotten here without you."

Lotor shook his head, laughing. "No. I mean, I love you. I prayed every day this moment would come."

Lance stepped forward, his eyes dimming down as his confusion increased.

Lotor grasped his cheek. "You don't have to do this; you can trust me. I'll never hurt you."

Lance grabbed Lotor's hand, pulling it away from his skin. He looked away, feeling the blue energy churning in his veins. It was growing stronger.

Because Lance didn't...

Lance didn't believe him.

Lotor pulled away. "Okay. But I've still been dreaming of this. I just want you to take as long as you need. Okay?"

Lance grunted.

"Have you ever heard of Honerva?"

Lance looked up, his eyes so bright Lotor started to squint.

"She was my mother. I thought she was lost, but Allura—I mean, I discovered that Haggar was Altean through you. Because Allu—someone you knew mentioned it to you. She thought Haggar was tracking her."

Lance didn't realize he had stepped back, away from Lotor's painful and pointless words. He didn't want to think about Allura. Lotor mouthed an apology to him, then went on with the story, in much more coherent detail.

Honerva, his mother, is Haggar. Neither of them knew. They've been working together. Lotor stole a trans-reality comet from you-know-who's hands and built a ship. After they realized they knew each other, they began to work towards a common goal: Oriande.

Lotor and Haggar journeyed there. Lotor failed, Haggar didn't. They've built amazing ships with the ability to cross into a different dimension. They can gather pure quintessence.

Now, Lotor wanted to betray her. She abandoned him. Her Galra-oriented goals are worthless.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest, bearing the most horrible secret of all: Lotor was good.

Lotor saved the Alteans. They are safe on a colony. But they can't come out of hiding yet. The Galra would kill them.

With this new source of quintessence, they can end the war and rebuild the Altean empire. But Zarkon won't allow it.

If they kill Zarkon so Lotor can take the throne, Lance can help end the war and save the Alteans.

They had been standing in silence for a full minute.

That's all it took. One full minute for the light to leave Lance's eyes. One full minute for him to freak out. One minute for the light to leave his eyes, turning them blue and human again.

Lance turned away suddenly, a broken sob escaping his throat.

It was all for nothing. It was all for nothing.

He shied away from Lotor's hands. Lotor pleaded with him to calm down. Lance could understand what Lotor was feeling with perfect clarity.

Lotor thought Lance would be happy. He thought Lance would be relieved.

He was wrong.

"Lance, please!" Lotor pounced, enveloping him in a hug.

Lance pounded on his chest, screaming obscenities. Lotor let go, watching helplessly as Lance fell to the floor. Lance backed himself into a wall, holding his arm out to protect himself.

"I won't touch you!" Lotor promised. "I won't touch you. Please, I can't take you to the hospital, calm down."

"Why?" Lance cried, the words tearing through his body, cracked and broken out his throat. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Lance, you... I'm so sorry. I don't understand!" Lotor's legs fell flat against the floor, easing closer to Lance ."What do you want to hear?"

"Nothing! Not a thing from you!" Lance sobbed, his brain turning in circles. "You lied. You lied."

Lotor wiped a tear off his purple cheek. "I know. I had to."

"No!" Lance screamed.

"I had to!" Lotor declared.

But Lance was freaking out—he wouldn't back down. "I could've helped you. As a pilot. As a... I could—I would have helped!"

Lotor looked pained.

"Keith would have helped." Lance spat.

Lance could feel the rage in Lotor's gaze. He willed the white power to return, but it burned out. The storm was over. Lotor broke him.

No, that's wrong. Lotor didn't break him. Not right here, right now. He broke him a while ago. He made Lance love him. He forced Lance to betray the people he loved. He forced him to live without his morals. Lance willingly and knowingly turned against his friends to be with Lotor, Prince of the Galra Empire.

And now, Lotor tells him he ever had to betray them in the first place? What was he waiting for? Until he trusted Lance?

"Why now?" Lance choked, his brain calming.

When Lotor finally spoke, he did so with caution and care. "An entire colony of an endangered species, my species... To me, you are worth more. To the universe, I had to protect them, at all costs."

Lance sniffed. "I paid the price."

Lotor frowned, his voice quivering but his eyes dry. "Yes. But I have the ships. I have the power. I have you."

Lance leaned forward. In his current position, he couldn't do more, but Lotor took the cue.

Lotor held him, rocking him softly and running his fingers through his hair.

Lance searched for the power, but it was gone. He didn't need it anymore!

Lance held onto that power because Lotor finally had his consent. Lotor had complete and total permission to do anything to Lance. He could string him up like he did long ago. He could change him... Make his hole wet like he always wanted.

Now, Lotor was good. He was amazing. He didn't want his consent to hurt him. He just wanted to tell him his plans. Because he loves him. Because Lance didn't trust him. Now, Lance knows he won't be hurt. Lotor is on his side.

Lance was prepared to live the rest of his life in hell. His whole team would believe he was a traitor.

Lance couldn't wait for them to find out! They would truly see that is was all for the noblest cause in the universe. The Altean's were alive! Lance was playing along because they needed Haggar, that's all.

Lance held up his wrists, barring bands to Lotor.

Lotor hesitantly grabbed each hand, kissing Lance's palms. Lance rolled his eyes. "No, I don't need these anymore."

Lotor looked at the bands painfully.

"Lotor? I can be loyal to you without them. Once the others find out, they won't judge me." Lance held them higher, trying to get Lotor to respond. "I can act until then. I swear."

Lotor ran his fingers along the bracelets. "Perhaps. But I can't have you freaking out on me out there. If we are going to take on my father I need you."

"And I'll be there," Lance promised; pleaded. "Take them off."

Lotor shook his head. "It's okay, my Prince. They look beautiful on you."

Lance froze. "Lotor. Take them off, now."

Lotor kissed his knuckle, ignoring him.

"Now!"

Lance started to cry again. Oh, god no. No, not again. Lotor was doing it to him again.

"You said they were only to make me feel better!" Lance sobbed. "I don't like hem anymore! You—you said you hated me having to pretend. You—"

You lied.

Lance ripped his hands away, hugging himself on the floor.

"Lance?" Lotor said, his lips speaking directly into his ear. "This is making me afraid. If this is how you react, I don't want to remove them."

Lance choked. "I—I'll do better! I swear!"

Lance grabbed Lotor by he shoulders. His lips were trembling, tears and spit all over his face. "Just take them off."

"They were to make you feel like a hero," Lotor explained. "Now, you are."

He kissed him. Right there.

That awareness and tendency to do exactly what Lance needed as gone. Lance tried to kiss back, his life depended on it, but he was crying too hard to move his lips. Lotor didn't slow; he didn't seem to mind. He pushed Lance to the floor. He ripped the beautiful vest. He tore his pants down, trapping them around his ankles by the boots.

It was humiliating. Lance's body responded to him as he touched and teased. Lotor went low, swallowing Lance whole. Moving. Sucking. Licking.

Lotor was the monster who stole him. Then, for a shining moment, he was a hero. Now, he was the hero who stole him. And Lance could never fight back again.

The Alteans depended on Lotor. The survival of their species rested on his shoulders.

Lance can't fight back.

A dull hum of bright, white power swelled in Lance's chest. Lance was going to do it. He was going to save the Alteans. He was going to end the war. He was going to kill Zarkon.

And he was going to do it with chains on his wrists.

It was his price to pay.


	27. Chapter 27

**Lance**

* * *

"You're sure you can do this?"

"Yes," Lance said. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The beat of silence that followed spoke a thousand words to Lance. Lotor was smart and calculating. He could spin lies without a second thought. When he had to pause, he was concealing a frightening truth.

"I can't lose you, Lance," Lotor said finally.

Lance knelt down to Lotor's knees, taking in Lotor's hand in a gentle grip. "I won't run."

Lotor spoke quickly this time, his response not delayed a single tick. "I'm not worried you'll run."

Lance tightened his jaw, looking at his husband with a refined purpose. "I won't run," Lance pressed. He kissed Lotor's hand. "I know what you're afraid of. I won't run."

Lotor paused. He always paused these days. Lotor's free hand came up to brush his hair. Lance closed his eyes, leaning into his warm skin. "Can't you tell I'm not lying?"

He didn't open his eyes and Lotor didn't speak.

"Lance, what happens when they push you? You have feared this moment every day since you discovered _he_ was on board."

Lance opened his eyes and released Lotor's hand. Lotor cupped both sides of his face gently, without reserve.

"Not anymore," Lance said, climbing into Lotor's lap, straddling his legs. "I'm not afraid of them. And... I know you think this means I've been biding my time."

Lotor flinched.

"I haven't. Besides... We never took these off," Lance said, gesturing to the cuffs on his wrists.

"No we didn't," Lotor murmured, inspecting each one as if their presence were new to him. Maybe he really did forget.

"Don't worry, Lotor," Lance assured him. "I will never be beyond your reach."

* * *

Lance spiraled to the ground, his guts flying to his throat and his head spinning. Oh, god. Why did he think he could do this?

He promised Lotor he wouldn't fail. He promised Lotor he could do it. Now his ship was crashing.

Lance groaned, pulling on the Galra controls to gain some leverage. The ship's engine was failing but still responded. Lance felt a rush under his fingers, buzzing to his neck.

He hadn't flown in such a long time. His mind was an underused muscle. Warning lights flared in every corner and Lance didn't remember what they mean.

Flying a Galra ship was different from a sentient lion—which Lotor hadn't allowed him to take—he was calling on garrison information buried deep in his memories.

The ship pitched forward. No, Lance didn't do that. No, no, no!

Lance groaned, his ship tumbling to the ground faster than before. He clenched his teeth and gripped the controls. He was going to crash. He was actually going to crash. He was going to crash.

Lance screamed as he hit the ground. His body flying into the safety harness. His head snapping forward and making a scary sound.

An intolerable pain in his neck.

"I'm sorry Lotor," Lance cried. "I'm so sorry."

Because this wasn't supposed to happen. Lance was supposed to escape in a damaged Sincline ship. The ship would be damaged, but not so severely that Lance actually crashed.

He promised Lotor he could survive 'the crash.'

The ship had stopped moving, but Lance's body felt detached from his mind. He was floating, watching the strings of blue quintessence flow throughout his veins. Lance was finally becoming used to this new power in his soul. He could understand the pure energy in his very being.

He could see it in others. He could attune himself to the universe around him.

Always, his power led him back to Lotor. Lotor, whose quintessence was purer, more concentrated, even, than other Galra. The Altean energy his husband held was strong, all-powerful. Inescapable. It encompassed Lance with the strongest love and fear on the planet. Lotor, the man with purple skin spreading across his figure for days, his flowing white hair, his confident accent, his mannerisms, and most importantly, his all-encompassing passion.

Lotor set Lance free in a way Lance didn't know was possible. He let Lance indulge his desire to submit and feel pain.

That was who Lotor was. He freed Lance from prisons he didn't know he had. Lance could be so much more useful now, especially as a paladin.

Not that he ever thought he could return to that life.

Lance reached out with his quintessence, not out of guilt or fear, but longing. A bright, white-hot flame greeted Lance. A burn so strong and powerful Lance gasped, years falling down his face. It was so strong.

The door to his wrecked ship screeched as a figure threw it from its hinges. Their powerful and untamable red energy seeking Lance out.

"H-Hel..." Lance slumped back, the sore ache of his ribs and back and hips following him into the darkness.

* * *

_"There is one part we're missing, my love," Lance called from the bed._

_"Oh, and what would that—" Lotor stopped, taking in the sight of Lance's form, sprawled strategically on the covers._

_The thin, delicate sheets were wrapped around Lance's midsection. It swirled around one of his legs, lewdly showing off his ass, the rest dangling off his arms. Most effectively, the strip of purple gold cloth dangling from his teeth. Nothing made Lotor want to tie Lance up more than sights like this._

_Lotor hummed. "I suppose I do owe you a proper goodbye. How long will you have to go without my touch?"_

_Lance sighed, grabbing onto the edges of the fabric, wrapping them around his wrists, biting the fabric with an open mouth, his tongue wrapping around it. He was screaming to Lotor, tie me up, fuck me, own me._

_"Oh, I have been neglecting you so long."_

_"How much longer can you wait?" Lance twisted; dragged the cloth down his stomach, shivering at the sparks of the light touch. But he needed more than that. He needed something more, enough to bruise._

_He needed proof. Lance refused to acknowledge what, exactly, the proof was for—after all, Lotor was good. He was the savior of the Alteans. Soon, even team Voltron wouldn't blame Lance for marrying Lotor._

_And yet..._

_"So you crave me, you young, sultry thing?"_

_"Hmm," Lance closed his eyes. "I want to feel every powerful inch of you."_

_Lotor removed his belt, his sword leaning against the bedpost. He stripped down to just his pants, climbing over Lance's writhing body on all fours. Still not touching him._

_"I want to feel your fingers and fingernails digging into my skin," Lance sighed. "Your teeth. Your tongue. Your cock."_

_A low rumble erupted from Lotor's throat. Lance arched his back up, begging Lotor to turn feral, primal._

_"Teach every cell in my body who I belong to."_

_So Lotor did. He dug his fingers into Lance's waist while he fucked a drool of spit down his chin. He gripped his neck to beautiful swollen blue and purple as Lance screamed himself hoarse. The range of colors on his stomach as Lotor kissed and squeezed and beat—adding to the fingers digging inside of Lance's walls. Everything down to his kaleidoscopic jaw as Lotor buried himself down Lance's throat._

_In the end, Lance woke up feeling used in ways he had no recollection of. The sensations of Lotor's extreme desire to celebrate Lance's acknowledgment—of Lotor's ownership over his body—left Lance dizzy and sore._

_Lance was disgusted, aroused, and satisfied all at the same time._

_He pushed himself up off the smoothly-made covers and smiled gently at Lotor._

_"Mornin' beautiful," Lance said._

_Lotor arose from his work desk, clearly spent from the constant planning of their upcoming plan. "Now, for you."_

_Lotor rolled Lance onto his stomach, teasing fingers inside him so gently he wanted to cry. It was so soft and slow and good, Lance's every breath turned into a gentle moan of submission. Lotor's tongue against his walls, adding to the intimacy._

_When Lotor pulled away before his finish, he didn't feel neglected. He didn't feel deprived. Lotor turned him over and wasted no time in swallowing Lance. Hollowed cheeks and a flexible tongue_

The sensations of their last night together followed Lance into his sleep.

* * *

Duller sensations of light and warmth pulled Lance into consciousness. He could feel someone's arms on his back. He could feel them on his legs, too. Lance was swaying side to side. Someone was carrying him bridal style.

"Hunk, please hurry," A low voice pleaded.

A muffled voice on the radio: "I'm in my lion, coming as fast as I can. I'm putting you through to Coran."

"Keith? Can you hear me now?" Coran asked.

Lance groaned, realizing who was carrying him. Lotor was not going to be happy about this little fact.

"I," Coron stopped. "Is that him?"

"Yes," Keith's voice cracked. "He was the one in Lotor's ship, the one that—"

"Pidge filled me in," Coran hurried. "But I can hear him from—it's him?"

"Yes!" Lance felt his body shift, the young man struggling to strut up the hill with Lance so delicately in his arms. "Hunk! I'm trying to get to higher ground but—god... He looks bad, Coran."

"You said," Coran acknowledged. "If you can get your suit working again we can scan his body and talk more clearly."

Keith grunted. "I can't. Hunk got through to a frequency my suit can still pick up, but I can't fix anything myself."

Lance gagged and choked as Keith nearly dropped him, his whole body screaming against the sudden movement.

"Lance!" Keith caught him.

"Keith?" Hunk yelled. "Is everything alright?"

Lance hit the ground softly as Keith released his desperate hold. "He's bruised... A lot. The crash hurt his head."

"I'm close. I'm so close," Hunk promised. "I've got my lion's pod ready to go."

"No," Lance mumbled.

"Lance?" Keith touched his neck delicately, trying not to injure him.

"I see you!"

"It's gonna be okay, Lance," Keith said, scooping Lance back up. "We'll heal you,"

"No, don..." Lance tensed, trying to get Keith's hands off him.

A prolonged gush of wind indicated Hunk had touched down. Lance heard footsteps. Then a voice, in person.

"Lance..."

"No." Lance squirmed slightly. He couldn't go into that pod.

"Is he awake?" Hunk asked.

"No," Keith growled, suddenly angry. "He's dreaming. He was screaming earlier."

Screaming? Yeah, right. Keith was blowing things out of proportion.

"Hurry!" Keith urged as Hunk pulled Lance from the ground and charged up the hill. "He could be right behind us!"

"Lotor?" Lance slurred.

"Lance? You can hear me?" Hunk asked.

"No—"

"I told you, he's dreaming! Lance is, hey! Watch his neck! I think—" Keith groaned as something hit the yellow lion, sending them off balance.

Coran spoke again, his voice demanding. "Keith, get him in the Yellow Lion's pod. Hunk, fly out of there!"

"On it!" Keith grabbed him again, attempting to lift him up.

Lance jerked, his whole body flying into movement. "No!"

"Lance!"

Lance flinched away, the lights around him bright and intruding. "Don't just, ugh. Don't."

Lance heard Keith call his name once.

"Wait, he's awake?" Hunk asked, his voice unsteady from Keith's broken suit.

"Get us out of here!" Keith ordered. "Lance, look at me."

Lance opened his eyes again but looked only at his hands. The bracelets were still there. That was good. Even if they figured out what they were, Lotor assured him that they couldn't be removed. They were built by something more powerful than anything on an Altean ship; something from the colonies, Lotor said.

But there was more than the bracelets on his wrists. Purple, pink, and blue welts—Lotor's fingerprints. His wrists were decorated with a steady ring of sensitive flesh.

Lance couldn't remove them. If he went into Hunk's pod, they'd see everything. They'd see the bruises on his back and chest, the ones he'd wanted them to see until now. They'd see the remnants of Lotor, his essence, still inside his stomach and...

And what would happen when Lotor got him back? What would he think of Lance getting rid of the marks? The one he'd asked for? Lotor would think Lance didn't want the Paladins to see him like this; as Lotor's.

That wasn't an option.

"I won't touch you," Keith held his hands up. "Just come here, we can heal you."

Lance shook his head. "I'm not getting in that thing."

"That—" Keith put his hands down. "It's a healing pod, it won't hurt you."

"I'm not doing it, Keith!" Lance snarled. "You can't make me."

Keith locked eyes with him, his gaze eventually traveling down to Lance's neck, his eyes catching on something. "Hunk? Get us to the castle."

"Keith what are you—Keith don't you dare!" Hunk called through the radio.

Without it, Lance wouldn't have responded in time. Keith lunged slowly, hoping to grab Lance as gently as possible. But Lance jerked, a ragged cry ripping from his throat long before his brain discovered how scared he was.

Lance didn't want to be forced.

"Don't touch me—no!" Lance screamed as Keith's hand locked around his wrist, the bruise so sensitive and flesh so tender. "Let me go! Stop! No, please—"

Lance heard Coran and Hunk screaming through the speakers, their words nothing but frantic to Lance's ears.

"I don't—fuck you!" Lance cried. "Fuck you! I won't do this again! Let. Me. _Go_." Lance kicked Keith's legs out from under him, catching the human-galra hybrid by surprise with his speed.

Lance advanced on him, his heart seizing in fear when sturdy arms wrapped suddenly around his midsection, pinning his limbs together. He froze, his body trembling and his limbs refusing to move. His mind refused to respond.

"Hunk, let him go!" Keith begged. "I can handle this!"

"No." Hunk knelt slowly, lowering himself to the ground with Lance's paralyzed form in his arms. "Open the pod."

Lance sobbed, a sound escaping his throat, piercing Keith's heart. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"He's having a medical emergency," Hunk explained, monotonous. "We have to make sure he's okay."

"Hunk is right," Coran said, his emotions impossible to read as well.

"Noo!" Lance howled. "No, no, n—I'm sorry. I'll come back!"

Hunk picked him up, dragging him over to the pod. "Lance it's okay, just close your eyes..."

"I'll come back!" Lance repeated. "I want to go back. I want to go back! I wanna be home!"

"... Hunk?" Keith questioned.

"I wanna—uh, no." Lance thrashed. He felt Hunk's arms go still, but still sturdy as ever. "I wanna go, I want to be done. I'm tired! I'm so—just don't make me. You don't have to make me."

"Hunk, please," Keith pleaded. "I can't take it anymore!"

Lance pushed his legs against the table, groaning as Hunk's embrace continued to anger the marks on his back and ribs. "I know you think you have to, but you don't. You don't have to force me. I'll learn. I'll be... Please, I just want once... No!"

Lance felt Hunk's arms withdraw in a flash.

"I can't do this!" Hunk exclaimed.

Lance twisted, gargling when his back hit the floor. But he scurried away. Keith and Hunk reached out gently, their hands in surrender. Lance heard they didn't want to do it, but his mind wasn't fully processing anything anymore.

He was having a full-blown freakout—and Lotor wasn't there to help.

It didn't matter that they decided not to put him in that pod, just like it didn't matter what Lance wanted. If Lance didn't want to go in, they'd force him. They'd _have_ to force him. If Lance were a good friend, he'd let them. 

But he didn't want to. 

"Don't touch me!" Lance demanded, maybe begged.

"We won't. Hunk, fly us back to the ship, please."

"Go with him!" Lance sobbed. "You heard me! Get out! Leave me—I want to be alone."

"Don't you leave him alone," Coran demanded, his voice rigid and commanding. "Not for a second."

"Noo..." Lance protested, knowing full well that he would never get what he wanted.

"I won't." Keith removed his helmet, letting his bangs and mullet free. The dark hair framed his face nicely enough for someone about to...

"I can do it, Keith," Lance tried. "I can, just let me be alone for a minute, please."

Keith didn't respond. Maybe he knew better than that. He didn't try to reassure Lance or make promises he wasn't going to keep. He stood guard a couple feet away.

"Keith," Lance whispered, pleading and desperate.

Keith wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He sniffed. His expression held something between a look of joy and fear. He looked like he wanted to say something.

Because he's Keith, he did. "I missed you."

"I don't care," Lance snapped.

"I know."

Lance's mouth fell open. Was Keith actually... Was he honestly...

"Are you kidding me?" Lance gaped.

Keith didn't respond, his gaze fell o the floor.

"What? Did you make a mistake?" Lance mocked.

Keith looked up, inching forward. "Lance—"

Something on Lance's face stopped him. Lance felt himself shrivel into the corner. His hand raised on its own, keeping Keith at a distance.

"I'm sorry! I'll—I won't come near you. I'm not him, I won't touch you." Keith scooted back, staying on his hands and knees, like a dog trying to please his master. Or a wolf preparing to pounce.

"I don't care!" Lance echoed. "Just go, you can go. I can be alone now."

Lance waited.

"Keith? I can. Please, just—give me a moment."

"I'm not leaving until Coran gets here."

"Why not?" Lance demanded. "Can I not handle myself?"

"You're hurt," Keith explained. "I have to make sure you're safe."

"I'm not going to hurt myself!" Lance put his hand down.

"Lance, can you see what—what has happened to you?" Keith asked. "Can you feel it?"

"We're coming up to the Yellow Lion's hangar," Coran informed them, his voice louder now that Keith's helmet was off.

"Wait, no." Lance looked around, the medical dock of the yellow Lion hadn't changed. "We're in the castle?"

* * *

Coran held his hands out, ordering them to back away. "It's conditioned. He can't help it."

"Conditioned..." Shiro asked the word, holding Keith protectively and lovingly. "Like, PTSD?"

Coran shook his head, maintaining eye contact with Lance the whole time. "Worse. He's not reliving anything. He's not stuck. It's just... Worse. This is a conditioned emotional response. Whatever Lotor's done to him," Coran explained. "He's forced Lance to believe something. Maybe people can't touch him, maybe he thinks he's about to be punished—whatever it is, I'm afraid Lance's brain is trained to respond his way."

"You think Lotor brainwashed him?" Pidge asked, her glasses glinting.

"No," Coran said, eyeing Lance closely. "I don't think he meant for this to happen."

"That's not possible," Keith snarled. "Lotor is too smart. He did this on purpose. He made Lance afraid—"

"I really need you to leave," Coran repeated. "Hunk, if we could use your lion?"

"Of course, yes." Hunk grabbed Keith's shoulder. "Come on, guys. Let's give them some space."

* * *

Lance shivered, afraid to leave his hiding spot, but dreading what would happen if he didn't. "I can—we can leave if you want."

"We don't have to go anywhere," Coran said. "I don't want to go anywhere."

Lance relaxed. _Coran_ didn't want to.

Lance waited, wanting to move so badly. He didn't want to cower on the floor like a child. But he didn't want to move. Moving meant to change. And change meant going into that pod. 

"Are we really on the castle?" Lance asked. Again. 

"Yes, Lance."

Lance swallowed. "That's what I wanted—I think. I think I meant to be here."

"Were you expecting to see _us_?" Coran asked. 

Lance paused. His mind was coming back now; slowly, piece by piece. Lance supposed he hadn't really been preparing to see the team. Lotor thought he wasn't ready for it. Maybe he was right. 

Somehow, knowing that they were going to kill Zarkon and save the Altean race wasn't enough. Lance was still deeply ashamed of being around them. As if it weren't about to all go away...

"Yes," Lance decided. "But I thought about this all wrong. I thought it would be exactly how it always had been."

Coran nodded. 

"Then they tried to—" Lance buried his head in his arms, trying not to cry. 

"Why don't you want to go into the pod?"

"I can't fall asleep. Not—not like that," Lance pulled on his hair, the edges almost reaching his chin. "If something happens, I need to be able to fight. That pod will keep me in a coma then I'll wake up with _him_."

Coran sat back, realization and understanding painting his face. "You don't want to go back right after you've escaped."

Lance sniffed. "I don't care about the medicine, I'll take it. Just don't put me to sleep. Don't make me sleep."

Coran licked his lips. He glanced at the able Keith tried to force him on and back to Lance. "The pods in the castle put you to sleep. These, the ones on the lions, don't have to."

"You could heal me without, you know?"" Lance asked. 

"To a certain extent. There's only so much it could fix with you conscious. But, yeah."

Lance pulled away from the wall, clutching the sleeves of his 'stolen' Galra uniform. Maybe having Lotor mark him up so much was a bad idea. How was Lance supposed to convince team Voltron to give him up when they were going to see this?

All he had accomplished was gaining their pity. They'd never respect him now. 

"Lance?" Coran prompted, rescuing the young prince from his thoughts. "I'm the only one who has to know."

"... Promise?"

Coran smiled."Promise."

* * *

Coran stopped looking at Lance. He tried for a long time. He kept his expression encouraging or neutral. But one moment in, when Lance asked him to search for the most significant damages to fix first he turned green. A small not-so-reassuring recovery smile later and he stopped acknowledging Lance altogether.

Coran helped him sit up. He gave him something to drink. He gave him a ton of pills. He asked if he wanted to shower.

So, the scanners could pick _that_ up.

Then, almost off-handedly, Coran declared that they'd be able to give him surgery when he was feeling safe enough. With a number of theories plaguing Lance's mind about his body, long before this, even, he hurried out to his room.

The hallways were clear—the castle eerily familiar.

Lance was afraid to ask what he'd found. He was going back to Lotor. He couldn't imagine the punishment—what might happen to him for finding something Lotor clearly intended to keep secret. 

So Lance took a shower. He emptied himself—his ss of Lotor's semen. Lance stood under the hot water, trying not to recall a far more luxurious shower at home. Whenever the disgust hit, Lance remembered not to try and throw it all up. Lotor might still be inside his stomach, but so were a fair portion of Coran's pills. 

The pills slowly started to work their magic. His concussion faded before Coran let him leave, but his head was finally ridding itself of this dull ache. His neck muscles unclenched and softened. The bruises started to fade. 

Lance left the shower, staring at his fully naked body in the mirror. No wonder Keith had panicked; Hunk too. The fading bruises still looked like a monstrosity. Now a mirage of pink, red, and yellow, Lance wondered how much damage Lotor had inflicted. 

If the carpets matched the drapes... No wonder Coran didn't look him in the eye. 

Lance tested himself out, squatting and lunging. Sitting didn't hurt, either. Huh, that was a first. For... Months, maybe. 

When Lance sat on the bench, gently running his hands across his skin, he discovered something that twisted his stomach. The scars on his ankles were gone. The very telling marks of white and brown that outlined where his old ankle cuffs used to be had vanished without a trace. Lance _hated_ those scars. He'd begged Lotor to remove them. Lotor said he would if he could, but the machines helped tissue to heal, not change. Their healing devices helped tissue seal and fixed burns... A scar needed no prompting—it was literally a sign of a fixed wound.

Lotor would spend ages kissing Lance's legs, worshipping the scars to make him feel better about them. 

What the hell? "Oh, hell..."

"Everything okay?" Keith asked from behind him. 

 "Keith!" Lance jumped, reaching for something to cover himself with. He looked around with the towel on his waist, but no one was there.

"I'm out in the hall," Keith declared. "I—I just, you know, brought you some clothes."

Lance scoffed. "Come in."

Keith rounded the corner, holding the clothes Lance didn't know he forgot reverently. 

"They couldn't get a robot to do it?" Lance asked.

"You'll have to see us eventually." Keith shrugged. "Shiro said I was the 'exact last person for the job' so..."

Lance thought Keith was like Coran, refusing to look at him. But he was looking right at him. "Well, he was right. My eyes are up here, thank you."

"I know." Keith kept his eyes glued to Lance's chest. "Does that hurt? It, uh... It looks better."

Lance looked down. "Yeah, I can't even feel it anymore."

Keith nodded. He held up the bundle of cloth for Lance to take. "Clothes?"

"Hands," Lance reminded him, his hands gripping the towel. Lance rolled his eyes at Keith's confusion. "Put them down. And turn around, I'm nude."

Keith moved to set them on the bench.

"Not that you mind, though."

A couple of lost syllables later and Keith's back was facing Lance. The idiot wasn't going to leave. He was literally turning around.

"I... I missed you," Keith admitted.

Lance slipped on the clothes as fast as he could, his skin rejecting the stiff fabric. "Keith?"

When Keith didn't turn to face him, Lance put his nd on his shoulders. His nerves piked sharply at the idea of touching someone who wasn't Lotor. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. 

Keith's head turned slowly. He looked afraid or nervous. Probably nervous. He visibly relaxed once he saw Lance was fully clothed and standing so close. "You... You almost look like yourself."

Lance removed his hand. He maintained eye contact with Keith while he took out his earings, unclasping his simple necklace as he did so. "Better?"

Keith licked his lips. "Did he put those on you?" 

Lance shook his head. "I have a full wardrobe—entire rooms of clothes and jewelry. I picked these out."

Keith nodded, his eyes catching the glint on Lance's bracelets. 

"Why?" Lance asked. 

Keith's brow creased. His hands went fidgety and kept pulling on his jacket. "You looked nice."

Lance groaned. "Ahh, why did you just make me take them off? I swear—"

"A whole room?" Keith blurted. 

Lance paused, disappointment creeping into his expression. "It wasn't all bad, Keith."

"That's what I'm afraid of!" Keith whined. He didn't seem aware of it, but his hands were clutching Lance's jacket. "Do you have any idea how scary it is to see—for me to see you like that? Lance—"

"Please, don't," Lance asked. "I—I know what he did. And I thought, well, I assumed I was..."

Lance leaned forward, his head resting against Keith's shoulder. 

"Is this okay?" Keith asked, his arms folded between them still. "Coran said—"

"I heard him. Lotor didn't do anything to stop me from touching other people; I never see anyone."

Keith's fists unclenched, slowly resting against Lance's chest. Lance shivered, his body starving for his. It wasn't that Lotor didn't touch him, it was that Lance never knew what to expect. Lotor was a wildfire of passion; untamable, all-consuming, and scorching. Keith was brash and blunt, but he held a kindness under all of that, like hot coals; hot, stable, and beautiful. 

"I missed this," Lance whispered, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist. "I haven't thought about you..."

Lance stopped himself. Keith was always a dangerous topic for Lance. Lotor knew about Lance's mild infatuation with Keith, he told him so. He bragged about being Lance's type: half-galra. Lance had nightmares about Keith. Lance almost died as Lotor's prisoner and he remembered what it felt like. He remembered getting sucked out into space, reaching for Keith's hand to save him from the void. But it was Lotor who saved him that day.

"Did I stand a chance?" Keith asked gently. "I know you're not in a good place for this—I know you told Coran you don't remember much and that Lotor probably scared you and made you think—"

Lance pulled himself up, fully intending to shut Keith up one way or another when Keith did it himself. He buried his face in Lance's neck. "Don't answer. I'm sorry."

"Keith? Lotor is coming for me."

Keith pulled away, untangling his arms from Lance's desperate embrace. 

"It's why I didn't want to get in the pod," Lance tried to explain. "If I go in there, I'll be helpless to defend myself. What if, when the pod is deactivated, I wake up by Lotor's side?"

That was what Lance was supposed to be afraid of, anyway. He didn't really believe he was. 

"He won't," Keith argued. "We invited him in the first time. He can't get close to you—"

"He will."

"Lance—"

"Keith, listen. We're married. He has the full force of the Galra Empire. That fight with Zarkon? Gone," Lance said bitterly. "You are harboring a prince. I'm Galra property."

"We won't—"

"Keith!" Shiro rounded the corner.

Keith and Lance bounced away even though they weren't touching. Even though all they did was hug innocently. And _not_ talk about stuff.

"Keith? You need to come see something," Shiro insisted. 

"Me too," Lance demanded. 

"No, we can't—" Shiro caught himself. "Fine."

* * *

_This is Emporer Zarkon of the known universe. You are currently harboring a runaway and very valuable possession of the empire within the confines of your radical coalition. It is a crime and an insult to the running house. The critical nature of this subject gives no room for forgiveness but allows you a small mercy to ensure security. An exchange will be made. Further evidence of pure intent was sent in tandem with this message. If you continue to hide, you will find yourselves facing the full might of the Galra Empire._


	28. Chapter 28

**Keith**

* * *

_This is Emporer Zarkon of the known universe. You are currently harboring a runaway and very valuable possession of the empire within the confines of your radical coalition._

So... They didn't know where Lance was. The Voltron Coalition was large; enormous. It was a threat meant to frighten but held no information.

_It is a crime and an insult to the running house._

Lance has said that, as Lotor's husband, Zarkon's previous hatred for his son was obsolete. Zarkon was honor bound to reclaim Lance for his son.

_The critical nature of this subject gives no room for forgiveness but allows you a small mercy to ensure security._

In other words, the Paladins—the coalition—will never be forgiven for taking Lance. And yet, because they can't risk Lance's life attempting to retrieve him by force, they will be showing the coalition mercy to ensure he would survive.

_An exchange will be made._

Zarkon had appeared on the recording with Sam Holt. As in Matt and Pidge's father.

_Further evidence of pure intent was sent in tandem with this message. If you continue to hide, you will find yourselves facing the full might of the Galra Empire._

Keith had been confused by this part until Kolivan showed him the intelligence's delivery route. The message had been delivered straight to a hyper-secure base of operations for the Blade of Marmora. Kolivan had no reason to believe that their location had been compromised. Kolivan was sure, up until that point, that the Galra didn't even know of a base like that one.

The message was delivered to the station with low tech. A clear, plastic-like bottle was projected to the base with small thrusters meant to slow it down; nothing more. Inside were schematics of the base, a plan of attack, and dated evidence of their correspondence regarding that base going back a decaphoebe. Lastly, a flash drive with the prerecorded broadcast featuring Emporer Zarkon and Prisoner Sam Holt.

In other words, Zarkon sacrificed ten years of planning and work to deliver this message. He did it exactly this way because, now, even Keith believed that he was willing to let someone as valuable as Sam Holt go in exchange for Lance McClain.

Further evidence of pure intent...

The meet up wasn't a trick. There was no foreseeable trap. The Blade of Marmora evacuated the base and self-destructed their stronghold. They retreated safely. Zarkon let them go... So he'd let Sam go, too, right?

Who would go this far to get Lance: the husband of the child he once ordered executed in front of his entire empire?

* * *

Lance was sitting in the corner, his eyes scanning everything in the room. If someone moved, Lance saw—his eyes snapping up to evaluate their intentions.

Keith swallowed, sitting back down slowly. "Lance... "

Keith shook his head. What was he supposed to say? That Lance was wrong? Keith could see him. Hell, everyone in the room could see what he was like right now. Lance was observing, as sharp as a trained Blade member. On any soldier, it was inspiring. On Lance, specifically with what he's been going through, it was encouraging Keith to stick to his decision.

"We can't let you go out there," Keith finally said, noting once again, how Lance's position in the corner of the room was more defensive than trusting. Where was the Lance that threw himself into the middle of the conversation? The one who would sling his arm around Keith's shoulders?

Gone, now.

"I can do it," Lance insisted. "Lotor never stopped training me; I can do this."

Shiro put his arm on Hunk's shoulder, reminding him to keep his cool. Keith stared at Shiro, the man he thought he knew so well. He'd gone silent ever since Lance had returned. He'd withdrawn from Keith, maybe, probably, turned cold against him. Did he think Keith was too dangerous a topic for Lance right now? Was he worried Keith shouldn't get too close?

Keith was desperate to prove him wrong. He smoothly stood and approached Lance, leaving the wrap around seating and rising to the platform. Lance tensed as he approached but said nothing. Keith put his hand on Lance's shoulder, noticed the sharp sound of him breathing in quickly.

"Relax, Keith," Lance groaned. "I can't cope with your guilt every time I say anything about him. He has been my whole life for months, it's going to come up."

"It's not that, Lance..." Keith said as he dropped his hand.

"Then what is it?" Lance hissed, his whisper audible enough for all eyes in the room.

"You can't look at everyone. It's not you—you checking us for danger..." Keith sighed. "It's that look on your face when someone else starts talking. Someone who isn't directly in front of you. Like..."

Lance's eyes wandered over Keith's shoulder, his eyes losing their cool composure as he evaluated the meanings of everyone's expressions. "What? Like I've only talked to one person for months?"

"Like you can't follow a conversation with more than one person," Keith lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear. "Because you haven't had to in over a year."

Lance's head may have been scrambled, it may have been healing, but he picked up what Keith was putting down.

He whispered, mouthed-out, really, "A _year_?"

Keith nodded.

Lance snapped his jaw shut, trying to conceal his trauma for a second more. Keith wanted to embrace him, but his instincts screamed at him not too.

"Keith?" Shiro asked; commanded. "I think you should back out of this conversation."

Keith snapped around, yelling louder than he should, "Or what? He's right! We can't coddle him."

"We do not have to," Shiro decreed. "But you need to step aside. You specifically."

Keith clenched his jaw. _Him?_ Keith had to be the one to back away?

As far as he could figure, Keith was the one Lance needed the most now. Keith was the one he married Lotor for. Keith was the one he knew before he was captured. Keith was his confidence and friend. Keith held a piece of Lance's past, an emotion and instinct that Lotor has since twisted and corrupted. Shiro...

 _Shiro_ was the one who let him go. Shiro ignored the signs. Shiro challenged Lotor the day he took Lance. Then, a flash of the camera's later, less than ten minutes of time missing from the feeds, and Lance was gone. Shiro escaped _uninjured_. Lotor escaped _unheeded_. All Shiro had was memory loss and no injury to back it up.

Then Lance gets back and Shiro doesn't want Keith to see him. He wants them separated.

Keith told Shiro over and over he didn't mean what he had said those long months ago; when he told Shiro the man he knew never would have let Lance go. But now... Keith was starting to doubt it.

"Keith?" Someone's hand on his shoulder, his voice soft and gentle. Lance, trying to calm him down like he always did. With all this going on, his gentle voice was working to make Keith better; it should be the other way around. "Let's just... Okay, look. I have to do this. There is no other option."

"That's not," Pidge sniffed. "That's not entirely true."

The room froze. Shiro finally turned away from Keith and Lance to focus on this new event.

Pidge continued. "My dad has been in Galra custody for a long time. You escaped, he didn't. We can't—I can't send you back to them. Not you. My dad can—he can—"

"Pidge?" Lance prompted. He held out his wrists, showing the gold bracelets Keith had noticed in the showers. "These were crafted by Haggar. They run off the energy source we were—Keith was tracking when he left to join the Blades. They are concentrated, deadly powerful sources of energy."

Keith clenched his jaw. Why would Lotor use that quintessence—that pure strain that destroyed everything in its path—on Lance's jewelry.

"You can try to take them off," Lance put his hands down, tugging at them mildly, something Keith had mistaken for a nervous habit. "But, eventually, they are going to trace the energy source and find me. Wherever we are."

Keith growled. "That's not possible. I've been searching for that strain of quintessence for nearly two years. If it could be tracked, the Blade would know."

Lance shook his head. He opened his mouth, then stopped before he staid half a word. He gestured behind Keith. His eyes held an apology and fear that mixed horrible on the young Paladin's face.

Keith followed his gaze, making eye contact with a mortified Allura. "What?"

"I can feel them," Allura whispered. "I—I didn't know that's what that was but I can feel them."

Keith blinked. Did that mean Allura could help him find the source? No, more importantly: Did that mean Lotor could actually find them?

Lance spoke again, his voice sounding distant and muted to Keith. "Haggar is an Altean Alchemist."

Coran gasped. "An Alchemist? Like Allura?"

Lance made a noise. "Allura's a—yes, Haggar... Her name was Honerva."

Allura clenched her fists. " I thought it might be true—but I never really considered the possibility."

Lance folded his arms, his muscles tensing. The pupils of his eyes condense, expanding the beautiful blue of his eyes that were... glowing?

"Lotor used you. He kidnapped you so Haggar could find Oridande. She used her magic to do this to me. She is behind this quintessence, not Lotor. Lotor... Lotor has no connection to this—to the Alteans. But that witch was the one who discovered the power that created Voltron!" Lance reeling on Keith, furry reigning in his eyes. "You think they won't find me?"

Keith stepped closer to him. Lance's eyes were definitely glowing now. Every so slightly white, extra powerful blue. Anyone else would think this was a trick of the light. But no one knew Lance's eyes quite like Keith did. No one.

"Did they use that quintessence on you?" Keith asked.

A long period of silence. Lance's jaw was trembling and his eyes turning pink as he fought off tears. "I don't know what they did to me—what I—what I let them do to me. I consented to all of it."

There was an explosion of protests. The Paladins chiming in all at once that, of course, Lance was forced into all of it; he was Lotor's captive. But they never saw what Keith saw. They didn't know what he knew about 'Consent.' Keith just kept his eyes disciplined on Lance, watching the heartbroken words escape his lips, the light in his eyes dying as he did: "I consented to all of it."

* * *

Keith didn't like it, not by a long shot, but Lance was on his way down to the planet. Shiro insisted that Keith stay behind. Lance supported him. Lance told him wordlessly, with his despairing and lonely eyes that Lotor knew everything. That Lance had to tell him about everything; every hopeful and tight-gripped hug, every linger, every gasp of hot air as the two inched far closer than necessary... The completely innocent flirting that never landed Keith where he desired to be: with Lance. In his arms and hands and fingers and...

Yeah, maybe it _was_ too risky for Keith to be down there right now.

But still. Shiro went down with Pidge, Matt, and Lance. Pidge and Matt, to ID their father. Lance, to make the trade. Lance's Bayard was on Lotor's ship, so Shiro had slipped him the Black Bayard. Everything was going to be okay.

Keith watched the dots move on the screens, heart clenching when the other ship arrived. "Allura?"

"I can still feel him," she said.

Though they were out of range, Allura stood with her hands on the pedestals, amplifying her power. If Haggar could track Lance through his bracelets, so could they.

"Just stay calm, Keith," Hunk said. "Lance can do this."

"Can he?" Keith asked far too late. "What if he... We don't know that, Hunk."

Hunk took a deep breath in. "Either way... We have to. Lance said we might as well rescue Commander Holt while we try to work around the cuffs."

Keith grunted.

"I really tried everything," Hunk swore. "I couldn't get them off. Pidge couldn't."

"I know you did, Hunk!" Keith blurted. "Just—augh! What do we do when he's back, then?"

Hunk didn't answer. Neither did Coran. Or Allura.

"Allura, I don't care how far he goes. If Lotor takes him, we take him back," Keith growled. "We'll bring an army. I'll rip them apart myself."

"Keith—" Coran started before Shiro cut them off.

Not in person, but they all saw his dot lurch. Pidge bolted for her father just after he crossed Lance. As soon as they touched, Sam's dot faded. Lance's froze. Shiro raced forward.

And now, very clearly, Zarkon was headed for Lance.

"What?" Hunk gasped. "Lance... Lance was wrong. Zarkon double-crossed us."

"Hunk, get me down to that planet," Keith ordered.

"Keith," Allura protested. "You can't. Zarkon still has Sam. If we—"

"If we wait, he'll get Lance too. Now, let's go."

"Allura's right. If we move in," Coran warned them. "Zarkon's fleet moves in as well."

"Yeah, but without Lance as our bargaining chip, we don't hold any cards... We're powerless." He turned to Keith. "What do we do?"

"We hold our positions," Allura said.

"No!" Keith snapped. "Sam had his chance. Lance escaped, I'd rather leave here with Lance than no one at all."

"That's him," Hunk announced, eyes glued to the screen. "That's Lotor!"

"Where?" Keith asked. "How can you tell?"

"Lance said he had access to that quintessence in those shackles. Look at how bright that dot is," Hunk said. "Let me see if I can do a scan from here,"

Keith paused, leaning in closer to the massive screen. "Why is Lance just standing there? Zarkon's headed right for him."

Coran swallowed. "I—I don't think he can move. He's balancing Zarkon between him and Lotor."

"Well—" Keith stammered. "Turn around! Get back to Shiro... Coran... I have to—"

"Keith!" Coran said. "Lotor just attacked Zarkon!"

The dots scattered. Zarkon's ship started to launch.

"Pidge, Shiro, and Matt are moving in!" Hunk looked up from his scanner.

"Zarkon's fleet is mobilizing as well!" Coran declared.

Keith turned away from the screen, no longer paralyzed by its events. He locked eyes with Allura, challenging her to stop him from what he was about to do. "Everyone is getting to their Lions. Hunk, take me down, we'll get Lance. Allura, you protect the team and help them get Sam."

* * *

Keith heard Shiro's voice come into range in the Yellow Lion. Hunk touched down in the Yellow Lion. "We need backup, Keith! We could use your help down here!"

Keith tapped in. "Allura is on her way to your location. Hunk and I are going after Lance."

"Keith, we need to stop this shuttle from docking with that cruiser up there!"

Keith growled. "So stop it."

"Keith—"

"Shiro? What's going on with you?" Keith snarled. "Why didn't you go after Lance? Why don't you want me down there?"

Silence.

Keith scoffed. "Whatever it is, worry about it later. Get Sam."

Keith and Hunk locked eyes, a form of understanding occurring between them. Whatever was happening with Shiro would have to wait until they get Lance back.

* * *

Hunk touched down out of range, letting Keith sneak into the fight like he'd asked. Before Hunk could get a word out to Keith, he was diving onto the battleground in his Marmoran suit. He sprinted across the field, his suit assisting his muscles, making them quicker and more controlled. His adrenaline powered him toward Lance without a hint of exhaustion or pain.

Lance was standing out, armed with Shiro's Bayard. He was holding it in front of him... He wasn't using a gun. He was using a broadsword. Zarkon stood twenty feet away, a scary new suit with bottles of quintessence attached to the back. Lance wasn't shooting him. Why wasn't he shooting him?

Keith looked behind Zarkon, seeing Lotor's pale hair rippling. He was armed with a Galran sword, gaining slowly on his father. Zarkon stood trapped between Lotor and Lance. They were fighting him together.

"Lance!" Keith called out. He probably shouldn't be announcing his presence, but he needed to get him out. Hunk was in the Lion just over the cliffs. They'd be fine.

Lance turned to face him, his eyes red and swollen. He looked so distraught Keith's speed faltered.

Zarkon's words came into focus. "—worth more than a whore?"

"You... Bastard!" Lance called out. "Is this how you honor tradition? This is how you treat your house?"

Zarkon laughed. "You think you and he are the same? A prince has the right to take what he desires. You are one slave out of many to join Lotor's harem."

Lance's jaw quivered in anger. Keith was side by side with him now. Lotor's piercing gaze hit him from beyond the field. Keith extracted his blade, ready to slice Zarkon in half and get Lance back to the ship.

Lance growled. "I am not a part of his Harem. I am his husband. A prince in my own right."

Keith clenched the hilt of his blade harder. _Fuck_. "Lance...?"

"You are a symptom of Lotor taking things too far. An obsession he lost control of. His first impossible project. A victory," Zarkon boasted. "His flaw was not fucking your useless, male hole. It was marrying you as if you were more than that."

Lance yelled and charged. He swung his broadsword back and forth, gaining speed until he clashed with Zarkon's. Zarkon didn't sway, but neither did Lance. Lance jumped back, dodging the next strike with practiced technique.

Lotor was charging too, his sword extended past his arm. Keith rushed him, calculating how he would protect Lance and fight these two at once.

Before he got there, Lance tumbled backward. His body twisted out of the way when Zarkon's blade hit his side, sending him spiraling out of control. Lotor snarled, calling out to Lance before charging Zarkon. He sounded angry... his words were clipped and disappointed.

"Now, Lance!" Lotor demanded, holding his hand out. Lance threw the Bayard at him, yielding his only weapon.

" _Agh~_ " Lance coughed, grasping his ribs. Zarkon must've hit him too hard. Lance pressed his palms to the ground, driving his trembling body up until falling back into the dust.

Lotor wielded Shiro's Bayard— _Keith's_ Bayard. He stood over Lance and blocked strike after strike. Lance flinched as Zarkon struck Lotor's arm. He locked eyes with Keith and shook his head.

Keith scrunched his brows. he wiped the sweat from his hairline and resisted the urge to yell at Lance to keep his position quiet. He was so close, barely twenty paces away.

Zarkon disarmed, bouncing back tot he shadows. Slowly, the pink fluid from his canisters vanished into his suit—into him.

Zarkon had dived forty feet away, placing himself out of reach and up the hill. He started to charge, his feet kicking up the dirt as he gained deadly speed. Lotor cast a glance over his shoulder, scowling at Keith before turning to the hill, charging his father.

Keith grabbed Lance, ignoring his shrieks as he dragged him away. Now that Lotor and Zarkon were locked in combat, Keith could see the fleet overhead. The ships pummeling Hunk's Lion with beams.

Keith pulled Lance up, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him away. Keith thought that Lance would be able to run like this. He thought they could get away, but Lance's legs were stalling.

"Lance, are you okay?" Keith groaned.

"Keith, stop. Zarkon..." Lance wheezed.

"What?" Keith faltered, turning his focus to propping Lance up.

"We have to kill Zarkon. We could—we could do it here. Today. Like we'd always planned," Lance said.

"No," Keith decided. "I'm taking you home."

"Keith..." Lance complained, his voice weak. "We can take down the empire."

"I don't care about the empire!" Keith yelled. "Just—Just come home, _please_!"

"I can't..." Lance whispered. He shook his head, speaking louder. "I will, okay? I will. But this is more important."

"Lance—"

Keith squinted, distracted by the bright light from the cruisers above. It was too bright. More than he'd ever seen. Because ti was pointing at them. Right at them. Lance realized as he did.

"Go. Go!" Lance panicked. "Left! Go left!"

White beams rained down from above, obliterating the cruiser and sending it to the ground. Keith instinctually covered Lance's ears, tucking his head into his chest to protect his eyes. Keith didn't realize he was trembling. Nor did he realize that the danger was over... Not until Lance spoke.

"Keith?" Lance grunted. "Keith, let me go."

Keith shook his head. Lance didn't see him, but he understood his meaning.

"Now, Keith!" Lance shoved him, his arms packing more strength than they should in his current state.

Keith fell on his back, catching himself enough to avoid hitting his head. He swept his feet underneath him, raising his arms in a surrender to lance. his brain was finally, finally putting the pieces together. And he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, Lance didn't want to go back to the same 'home' Keith was talking about.

"You don't have to give in," Keith said. He raised his voice, yelling over the anarchy. "We can protect you."

"There's—there's something you don't know," Lance sobbed.

God... Lance wasn't going to come back. Keith was going to have to make him. He was going to break Lance's trust in him. Whatever Lotor didn't already take apart and mutilate—whatever pieces of Keith Lance had tucked away in his brain—Keith was going to deliver the terminal strike. He _had_ to... To save Lance. He could sacrifice himself—his image, nothing more—to save Lance.

But it shattered his heart.

Keith had to decide now. Lance would be okay one day. Maybe they would be okay but ' _they_ ' didn't matter. _Lance_ mattered. At least, he should. Lance should matter more. Better to have him safe than have him to himself.

 _God_... Keith was such a coward.

"Lance, I'll still take you back!" Keith called, seeing Lotor advance from the hill. "We will all take you back! Please, just come to the castle."

Lance shook his head, his eyes red and dripping innocent tears. "I—I can't. You have no idea—"

"So tell me!" Keith said, taking a step back. Lotor was closer now. Zarkon was gone. Lotor was coming for Keith now. "Tell me on the castle."

Lance clenched his fists, retiring them at his sides—his mind made up.

Keith lunged, watching Lotor run at them fast as he seized Lance's wrist, locking it in a harsh grip. "Come on!"

Lance punched him. Keith's head turned to the side and hit the ground. The sky was underneath the ground. Lotor's hair wiping in the wind as he charged, the black Bayard in his hand. A harsh hold around his wrist yanked him to the surface, putting the world right again. Lance's face, scared and desperate and so, so close to Keith's.

" _Go_ ," Lance ordered.

Keith ran. He ran like a coward, away from Lance. Away from Lotor. He left them with each other. Lance just... Lance just saved him _again_. He gave himself to Lotor to save Keith _again_. Keith was letting him. He was leaving Lance to endure hell for his own freedom. He should go back. If he was _any_ kind of man he would go back and challenge Lotor.

He'd force Lance back to the ship unconscious if he had to.

Every inch of Keith's being cried for him to turn around, but his legs carried on. He risked a look over his shoulder, so terrified of seeing Lotor there to kill him—like he had Zarkon moments ago. But Lotor wasn't there. He was too far away to see.

Maybe Keith saw a figure on the horizon. Too big to be Lance... Too big to be Lotor, even. They were obstructed by the endless onslaught of weapons above them.

He snapped his head back, ignoring the reality of what he'd just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left.
> 
> I can't decide if I should write one more R-rated Lance/Lotor scene before the end or if I should leave it as is. It works either way...


	29. Chapter 29

**Lance**

* * *

A large cascade of stairs split to several levels because the torch was simply _too_ high. It would be a literal race to the top. Sprinkle in some bloodshed over dozen stairs or so and one can picture the Kral Zera. The light from the torch was so bright is cast lengthy, moving shadows down the waterfall of stone.

The purple flame was the gorgeous reward at the end of the road.

Lotor said there would be an archivist to start the ceremony. Once the flame went out, suitable galra would light their torches and charge the monument. Each one hoping to be the one to light the flame; to rule an empire.

Of course, they were running late. It was Lance's fault, really. The Red Lion was normally more... Responsive. Lance knew that for a fact. The intensity of the Red Lion had taken him by surprise the first time he flew. The sharp turns. Red's brakes that didn't technically, like, _work_.

They lost Haggar after Lotor killed Zarkon. Patricide wasn't _exactly_ the way to a mother's heart to begin with, so they had no portal to get there fast. The Red Lion was the only option. Thankfully, the Archivist was taking his sweet time to start the ceremony. Lotor and Lance could, hypothetically, get there in time.

Lance could feel Lotor's ever-growing impatience with his flying. He was going as fast as he could. They were almost to the planet... Only Lotor decided to take a more camouflaged, risky approach to keep them alive longer. Lance couldn't navigate through the dust, debris, and rocks fast enough.

Everytime he hit Red against a surface, he apologized... But not to Red. Red wasn't talking to him. Lance was still able to fly, but there were no lines of communication open between them. No, Lance was apologizing to Lotor.

Lotor wasn't concerned about the hordes of desperate Galra. He was concerned about Sendak. If Sendak had truly partnered with his mother, they could claim the throne quickly. That appeared to be the scene unfolding below them. As soon as the space around them cleared, Lance pressed Red to go faster. He pushed through the air and flew directly over the battlefield. He spun around and attempted to land as close to the crowd as he could.

Red stumbled on the gray surface. Lance winced as he felt one of Red's forearms fold beneath them. The Red Lion toppled slightly, landing on the ceremonial grounds with their whole body.

"So much for a majestic entrance," Lotor pouted.

Lance groaned as he prompted Red to sit upright. "Don't worry," Lance said as he watched the breeze blow the light from Sendak's torch. "It looks plenty windy. Just leave your hair down."

"Your wish is my command." Lotor kissed his cheek.

Lance lowered Red's head, opening the mouth as Lotor neared the teeth. Lotor stepped out into the wind.

"Halt! Your true emperor has arrived." Lance heard him call. Lotor surely knew how to speak to the masses when he wanted to.

Lance set him on the ground. Hearing Sendak jeer back. Lotor stayed calm, defending himself only as far as he deemed necessary. Like a true emperor. Lance was proud. He felt like sitting back and watching the show, staying on the Red Lion like Lotor told him to. Until Haggar—Lotor's own mother—called him a _half_ - _breed_.

Lance growled. If he couldn't handle some good-old-fashion name-calling, as racist as it was, how was he going to sit here and watch Sendak try to cut his husband apart?

Easily, apparently. As fierce as Sendak was, all of his attempts to harm Lotor failed. He fires advanced weapons from his arm—he fired his arm, even. He fought with precision and skill. Next to Lotor, even he looked minor-league. Even in those moments of panic, when Lotor barely dodged his attacks, he retaliated with such elegance Lance's heart calmed instantly.

He still felt useless. He was wearing the armor of one of Lotor's generals. All blues and oranges when his Blue Paladin suit was collecting dust on his shelf. Lotor had the Red Bayard... The Black one too. When Lance had drawn Shiro's Bayard it had taken the form of a sword. An Altean Broadsword, Lotor had said. All that equipment and all of Lance's accomplishments yet he was resigned to watching the fight.

Purple beams of light blasted around Lance and Lotor. The Galra were firing above their position. Lance was in a warship, Lotor: feeble armor. Lance yanked the controls, his instincts taking over. Red responded slowly, turning slowly toward the ships above. Lance felt like his Lion had suddenly gained a thousand tons of dead weight.

Lance gurgled as he pushed Red to respond to his emotions—to inhale his fear and anger, to fire it as a quintessence fueled weapon. Lance unlocked a new weapon, feeling the lion's tail turn into a deadly spire. He weaved through the ships, Red finally listening to him. He sliced their ships apart, exactly what Lotor told them not to do.

Lotor wanted to keep balance and order in the Galra empire for when he took over. Now his ship, a vehicle of Voltron, was slicing everything Galra into pieces.

The other Galra might not trust Lotor now. It looked like he was aligning himself with Voltron.

Lance didn't care. If Lotor was actually going to end the war and save the Alteans, aligning them with Voltron was a good thing. The universe— _Zarkon's_ _universe_ needed to see Voltron as a good thing.

Right on time, the wormhole opened. Four lions pushed through the gate. Black, Green, Yellow, and Blue all entered the space around them. Lance froze, watching Pidge charge her weapon and fire it at a ship in the other direction.

The Blue Lion turned to face him as if Allura—or Blue herself—recognized his presence. Lance didn't have to patch them in. Being a Lion of Voltron gave them a direct link.

Allura's face materialized on the screen by him. He panicked, pushing the button he knew concealed him from her. But he could still see her. She looked confused, possibly by him cutting her off, but she stayed in contact.

"Lance?"

It didn't take long for the other Paladins to notice the Red Lion floating out in space.

Lance tried to keep track of everything they said, but their faces were too overwhelming. He only saw them recently. He'd seen them not too long ago. They hadn't been isolated from him as long as they had been in the past. But seeing them only recently was like carving a knife into a fresh wound... And you couldn't stop bleeding with a knife.

Lance canceled the connection, sitting in shocked silence. He wasn't sure what was happening with Lotor at that moment. He didn't check. Lance grabbed onto the controls, reaching into Red for comfort, for guidance. Red froze him out.

Why even let him pilot if lance wasn't going to be able to talk to him?

The presence of the other lions sealed over Lance's heart in an iron grip. He couldn't breathe, think, or move. Not with them right there.

Black's eyes were following him. Not in the way Lance's own Lion always did, in the way the ones who called to him. Black's gaze was dark; predatory.

Lance opened a communication, audio only, to all lions. "Sh—Shiro?"

He opened a communication so he could receive an answer from the black lion, but none came.

"Shiro, what are you doing?"

The Black Lion turned. The lion lunged. Lance growled as he felt Red connect with him, both of them sensing a danger. Red didn't give him words, but Lance got the gist. Somehow, Shiro was putting Lance in a great danger... Red's pettiness would have to wait.

Red responded fast, almost taking complete control from him. Lance was insulted, a little bit, but mostly hurt to realize he couldn't fly like he used to. His reflexes were slow. His mind slower. Red took him the roundabout way, weaving between anything and everything to hinder the Black Lion's advance.

Lance felt a slight panic at being a distance from Lotor, worried about leaving his sight. He didn't want to distract Lotor, but he had to have the option to track his whereabouts. Red sent a confirmation, an emotionless confirmation and changed course, bringing him closer to the Planet.

Lance's destination became more fixed, more predictable and Black was starting to gain on them.

Lance opened another line, but Red told him it wasn't going to work. Something was _fundamentally_ wrong with Shiro's quintessence. So Lance made sure to open it to all of the Paladins, to gather witnesses.

"Shiro? What are you doing?" Lance grunted as he entered the atmosphere, aiming for the torch. It probably wasn't smart to drag four super-weapons to Lotor when he couldn't defend himself, but he wasn't thinking. Red was. "What are you—Ah!" Red lurched, taking fire from the Black Lion. "Stop!"

Lance opened communications to the rest of the Paladins. "What's—"

Lance grunted, feeling Red spiral out of control as he fell to the ground. The Lion swept passed the monument, into a canyon nearby.

Lance noted thankfully that the three other Lions were following Shiro and Lance, not going after Lotor.

"What's happening?" Lance asked in a high-pitched furor.

"Shiro's not responding to us!" Allura answered. She seemed at a loss for what to say next. There were so many things to talk about. None of them knew what to touch on.

Keith would be able to. He was brash enough to just say it. He would ask the right questions.

Lance heard Pidge's voice. "What about Lotor?"

Lance's heart stopped. Red pulled on his heart, trying to calm him, but ultimately failed.

"Keith is up there with the Blade," Hunk said.

"What?" Lance yelped.

No one answered him. Either they detected the panic in Lance's voice or Keith told them. What if they knew? Lance wanted to be strong in front of them but what if Keith told them Lance was too afraid to go back to the castle?

Allura spoke. "Lance, are the bracelets the same?"

"What?" Lance looked at his wrists, screaming when he was jolted to the side. "Y—Yes."

"Lotor didn't change them?" Pidge asked. "Didn't replace them or alter them at all?"

"No—wait," Lance gasped. "Can you take them off? Can you?"

Hunk's gentle voice. "Maybe."

Pidge hissed a warning, one she could've hidden from Lance from forgot to. "Hunk!"

"Maybe..." Lance tested the word on his tongue. "I—"

What did it matter? Even if Lance could get them off, what would he do? Run away with them? Run away from Lotor? He was afraid Lotor would come for him on the castle but he didn't want to _be_ on the castle.

Lance shut off his communications. He needed to think. When Red went down again, he barely felt it. His back tweaked where he was sitting as they bounced around, but he only watched red skid across the dirt on the monitor. Red cut him off.

Hunk was trying to call him.

Lance didn't call him back. He watched Blue and Green stop their approach, abandoning him and going to find Lotor.

"No..." Lance begged, his pleas reached no one. He didn't know if he wanted them to stay and help him or prevent them from hurting Lotor. Both? Both.

Lance grunted as he saw the two beams of yellow light staring at him through the fog. It was the Black Lion. It's face and body whisked the fog away as it charged on all fours, gaining speed to hit him one more time.

A wall of yellow blinded Lance's vision. The Yellow Lion dug its heels into the ground, it's paws glowing until they sprouted massive claws—digging into the rough earth. The Lion swayed, its body falling on the ground as Black toppled it over.

Lance grabbed onto Red's controls, yelling at his Lion to move. Red didn't respond. Red couldn't. Maybe they didn't want to. Red wasn't exactly being open with Lance. Maybe the lion sensed something Lance didn't.

The Black Lion seemed to sense it too. It stopped, not attempting to charge Lance again. Then it simply... flew away.

Lance grabbed his helmet. Even though the planet's atmosphere was safe, he had a habit of putting it on. It had a dark glass hood that concealed his face.

Lance rose from his seat, noting how the floor was sideways now. His back hurt like crazy, causing Lance to clutch it as he limped. He left the lion, nearly falling as he jumped to the ground.

There was no sign of Hunk, so he was still in his Lion. Lance had no way to check up on him without going in the Lion, so he started his way there.

A small figure in a hood slid down the cliff. Lance didn't see him because of the fog, but he did as the figure got closer. It was a blade member, braving their way into the ravine. They were smaller in stature; completely familiar. It wasn't that there was a lack of short Blade members, it was because there was no blade, no one else in the world quite like _him_.

"Keith," Lance called, suddenly remembering he couldn't hear him. Not in Lotor's suit.

Lance grabbed his helmet, set on removing it when he felt it. The smoke started to swirl. His ears popped. His fingers started to hum and vibrate in time with the machinery descending on them.

Lance sprinted for Keith, calling out when even though he couldn't hear. "Hide!"

Keith didn't flinch. He didn't shy away from the approaching figure. He removed his mask. His hair puffed out. His violet eyes glowed.

Lance was next to him in no time. He grabbed Keith's wrist, in exactly the way he couldn't stand. Lance yanked and dragged him to the nearest cropping of rocks. Keith was pawing at his arm, trying to maintain close contact.

"Lance," Keith panted.

Lance threw Keith on the ground, hiding him behind the rocks. He dropped to his knees at the same time, gasping and clenching his hurt back. Lance jerked his helmet off. He inhaled the cold, wet air. "Keith."

"You're not hurt." Keith's eyes softened a bit. His hand jumped out to cup Lance's face. Lance thought it might've been involuntary, but Keith wasn't that type of person. "You look so much better."

Lance reached out for Keith. His glove was still on, but he didn't do it on purpose. He wasn't brave like Keith. His hand froze as he felt his fingers make contact, touching Keith. touching someone other than Lotor.

Keith's eyelids fluttered shut. His eyes opened as quickly as they closed, the softest look on his face. Lance knew the feeling. He wanted to lean into the touch of Keith's skin. He wanted to close his eyes and live it. But he wasn't going to risk losing a second of those violet eyes. Not one second, because he had to leave. He had to leave right then.

Lance held his helmet over his head, waiting one second to put it on. "Please stay hidden."

Keith's hands reached out, both at once, for his waist. Lance put the helmet on, blushing at Keith's forwardness. As soon as it was attached he thought of one more thing to say: "I'll protect Hunk."

Keith didn't hear. Lance gently eased his hands away, turning away and running. If he got to the Yellow Lion now, no one would see him running from the cluster of rocks. They wouldn't find Keith.

* * *

Lance thinks he might have lied to Keith. He promised he would protect Hunk, but didn't even know where he was.

Lance was on the ground when they lifted the beat-up lions onto Lotor's ship. He knew Hunk was in their custody. Lotor knew that Lance knew. Yet it was an untouchable subject.

When Lance discovered Keith was on the ship, Lotor had to bind him to his bed so he wouldn't panic and leave. So Lance wouldn't feel obligated to. Now that Lotor knew Lance wanted the bracelets off, Hunk being on board was a grenade in their relationship.

Lance couldn't even ask where he was.

Even if Lotor put his foot down, there was a chance he'd forgotten Lance asked him to take them off. Last time the subject came up, Lance begged him to take them off. Lotor refused. Lotor distracted him after that.

As far as Lotor knew, Lance forgave him for leaving them on. Lance would never forget the look on Lotor's face after they returned home from the exchange. They were barely separated at all, but both high on adrenaline from what they'd pulled off. Lotor threw Lance on the bed and kissed all accessible inches of his laughing body. Lotor was laughing too.

Lotor grabbed Lance's ankle, removing his shoes one by one. He moved to kiss the scars on his ankles when he froze. The scars were gone.

Lotor could've lied. He could've said that the castle had better technology capable of removing scars. He could've pretended to be happy they were gone. He didn't. He kept his eyes trained on Lance, crawling up his body, looking in Lance's eyes. It was then that they both knew. Lotor knew that Lance knew he lied. Lance knew Lotor knew... It was an endless trap that would eat them alive. So Lotor kissed him and turned him over, where he couldn't look at Lance's face.

What else would he do?

It was a knife to the heart of their relationship. Everything was now. First Lance's captivity. Then Lance's resistance. Then Voltron. Then Keith. Then the shackles. Then the ankle cuffs. Then the scars. Then the bracelets. Then Keith again. Then the scars. Then the bracelets again.

Now Hunk.

Was Lance especially interested in adding to the list? Was he willing to risk being the one responsible for another problem? If Lotor brought it up, Lotor could control the circumstance, grant Lance permission for something, allowing them to move on. But if Lance brought it up when Lotor didn't want to... Lotor would have to deprive Lance of one more thing. Or, even worse, give him one more thing he doesn't want to give.

Lance knew Lotor was trying to be kind to him, but he also knew Lotor expected Lance to obey the laws of Consent to _some_ degree. The fact that Lance would freak out, crying and screaming and shouting when he didn't get something he had no right to have was a unique circumstance in this dynamic.

Most would refuse their husbands what they wanted until they accepted what they got with joy. But Lance couldn't accept it how hard he tried. What did Coran say? Lance was emotionally conditioned to react this way.

And Coran was right about Lotor too. Lotor didn't condition him to behave this way. It was an accident—a defense mechanism Lance had no control of.

If Lance asked and couldn't handle the answer... Lance would be forcing Lotor to deal with his reaction. Lance knew to leave these dangerous subject alone...

Lance grunted, sinking further into his hot, scented bath and throwing a damp towel over his face.

"Something bothering you, Prince Lance?" One of his servants asked—the one who drew his bath.

"Tired," Lance answered.

The young half-Galra huffed. "Well, we know what you endure."

Lance took the towel off, raising his eyebrows. His servants had been dropping subtle hints. First, back when Lance first got them, his eyes were glowing, so they didn't talk to him. They revealed later that they were told never to interact with the Prince. They weren't supposed to. After Lotor became the emperor, one of them discovered Lance wasn't holding himself above them. They started to take care of him—treat him like a person. Maybe not an equal, but they seemed genuinely pleased to serve someone so nice. His servant took the washcloth, reaching into the water and pulling out a leg. He gently washed the feet, causing Lance to close his eyes and sigh.

"You should keep going easy on your back," The Galra said. "You didn't need the hospital, but you should let your muscles relax. I can rub your back when you get out of the bath."

"I think I can manage," Lotor announced.

Lance hadn't seen Lotor come in. Neither had the young Galra. The Galra stood, subtly handing Lance the washcloth, the exchange hidden by his body. Lance tucked the cloth between his legs, closing his tighs over it—completely covered by the murky soaps and fragrance.

The servant backed out of the room. The guards were dismissed. Lance frowned. He wished _he_ could dismiss the guards, get a little privacy from time to time.

Lotor leaned over the tub, closing his eyes and kissing Lance on the lips. "Give me the towel."

Lance blushed, bringing it out and handing it to Lotor. Lotor sat on the stool, the one the servant forgot to move. He pulled out Lance's leg and rubbed his ankle. Lance's warming heart stopped, vaguely panicked by the timing.

Lotor scrubbed with assured strength. His hand caressed his calf, massaging the flesh. Lance leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Feeling the tissue being rubbed and pinched between Lotor's fingers sensually. "You're perfect."

Lance hummed. Lotor set his leg in the water.

"No..." Lance whined playfully.

He opened his eyes, looking at Lance with awe and sadness.

"Lance?" Lotor picked Lance's other leg out of the water, starting at his ankles.

"Yes, My Prince?" Lance responded immediately.

"Say my name," Lotor asked. "I am not a Prince anymore."

Lance nodded. "Lotor."

"I wanted to keep you in my room," Lotor admitted. His hands kept busy, massaging Lance's leg, though he couldn't feel it anymore. "I wanted you adorned in silks and jewels. Pampered by servants every hour. Feed you the finest foods. Chains on your ankles."

Lance sat up. Lotor set his leg back in the bath kindly.

"My father told me about Consent young. He romanticized it. And you have always been..." Lotor bit his lip. "The most beautiful creature in this universe."

Lance sighed. "I begged you for them."

Lotor shook his head. "You didn't. I had them because I wanted to—to chain you up and have you touch me. I brought them to you because I thought it would calm you down... But they have always been so I could own you."

Lance looked down.

"Whether you knew it or not."

Oh, god. Lance was going to regret this. But Lotor was confessing a lot here, Lance couldn't accept this roundabout apology with a sense of superiority. "Sometimes... I want to be owned by you."

"I know."

Lance brought his hands to his chest, covering himself.

"Would you like me to get you a covering?" Lotor offered.

Lance shook his head.

"Lance, will you look at me?" Lotor asked.

"No," He whispered.

"Fine," Lotor sighed. "I guess I'll just say it. Your body is your own."

Lance... Lance wasn't expecting that. He was expecting a speech about Consent and commitment. Not that. He looked up, Lotor somewhat blurry. He rubbed the steam and soap from his eyes, pleading with Lotor to repeat his statement.

"Your body is yours. It only belongs to me when you want it to."

Lance leaned forward. Lotor echoed him, leaning in as well. "Even if..."

Lotor nodded. "Even if you kiss me. Even if you're with me. You have to tell me."

Lance closed his eyes, leaning in. Lotor took the hint. He felt lips on his; plump and gentle. Lotor's tongue gently traced his lips. Lance opened his mouth, granting access, but Lotor didn't push. Lance felt two hands, one on his shoulder, the other on his face. They guided him forward gently, giving Lotor more leverage.

Lance leaned in more, moaning as Lotor's tongue taunted his mouth lightly. Lance hit the edge of the tub, the heartless object obstructing him from Lotor.

Lance started to climb over it. Lotor took that as permission to lift him up and pull him into his lap, soaking his clothes.

* * *

Days later, Lance was adapting to this new life. Nothing had changed. He wore the same clothes. He ate the same food. Trained often. Walked more. Read stories and gazed at the stars.

There was an air to the world around him that had changed. Everything he did had this whole new level of freedom.

Funny how Lance was looking at the sky roof in their bedroom thinking exactly that the moment Lotor barged in.

Lance sat straighter, easing himself off the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

Lotor didn't answer, his eyes staying on the floor.

Instinct drove Lance off the bed and towards Lotor. He put his hand on his chest, looking into disheveled, cold eyes.

"Hey," Lance whispered. "It's okay. Everything's alright."

Lotor seemed frozen, his muscles rigid. Lance couldn't pull him in any direction, so he swayed slowly. Lotor eased out of his state, swinging with him. Lance wanted to put on music but didn't want to leave Lotor alone. He pushed further in, his arms hugging him tightly.

Lotor's eye started to unfreeze. He registered Lance was there—he wasn't alone. Lotor grabbed Lance's arms, stilling them both. He pushed faintly. Lance leaned away from him, only to be pushed more. His thighs hit the edge of the bed. He sat obediently.

Lotor's hand cupped the left side of his face, his thumb tracing a line from his cheekbone to his jaw. His thumb stopped, rubbing small circles into the curve of his jaw, pushing harder by the second.

Lotor looked Lance right in the eye, unwavering. "I saw the footage from your suit."

Footage?

Oh, of course. His helmet has a camera. Lotor saw what happened at the Kral Zera.

Lance's jaw started to shake. He clenched his teeth together and blinked away frightful tears. Lotor dug his thumb into the bone so roughly Lance was forced to look away.

He hissed through the pain. Lance tilted his head up, trying to look Lotor in the eye. Lotor didn't let up. Lance maintained eye contact, leaning left and kissing Lotor's hand.

Lance said the only thing he could think to say. "It's okay."

* * *

It was predictable; that it wouldn't last. Or rather, the reality that Lotor's intentions were somewhat clouded from Lance's vision; twisted.

Lotor wasn't promising Lance he didn't have to worry about giving his consent—no. He was laying the groundwork for something else. From now on, Lance would have to consent each day.

Lance's jaw ached so bad, standing outside those heavy doors. His servants had let it slip to him... Hunk's location. As the Prince, Lance had access.

But if Lotor watched him through a helmet, then he most certainly watched his tracking bracelets a lot more than Lance originally thought. Lance rubbed the bruise on his jaw, knowing there were many more to soon follow.

Still, he ordered the guards to open the doors. The sound was frightening. It sounded all too similar to the heavy doors in his and Lotor's room—the ones Lance had been locked behind once. Only once, but the torture lasted for hours.

Lance stepped inside, waving the doors shut. Hunk was shivering, his form slumped over in desolation.

The doors shut, locking them in. Lance made sure to whisper softly; kindly. " _Hunk_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter.


	30. Chapter 30

**Lance**

* * *

"Hunk," Lance whispered, dropping to the ground in front of him.

Hunk didn't look up right away. His muscles compressed as he turned his head to the side. He finally looked at Lance through the corner of his right eye.

"Hunk... I'm sorry," Lance said. "I didn't want you to wind up here."

Hunk lowered his eyes, a clipped, feverish rage hiding in his expression. "How did you get in here?"

"I have access. Lotor is, well, I'm the Prince Consort. I'm—"

Hunk's expression stopped him dead in his tracks. Hunk looked scared and angry. He wasn't scared of Lance, though. Nor did he look afraid on his behalf. He had the look of someone staring at a coffin... Watching a body being lowered into the ground slowly—never to be seen again. Hunk's eyes gleamed with concern. His forehead dripped with sweat as his eyes flickered back and forth. His blinking was irregular. His eyes stared far beyond Lance. Hunk was trying so hard to avoid staring at Lance. He poorly disguised his wandering gaze by looking at each stone on the wall... Randomly jumping back to stare at Lance's arms, checking for injuries.

"Your jaw..." Hunk asked. "How?"

Lance's hand went up to the curve of his jaw. The tissue was still tender from when Lotor dug his thumb in heavily, prying his jaw open even though Lance would never bite...

"Hunk?"

"L—Lance?" Hunk replied.

"Can you, do you think you can just, like..." Lance sighed. "Can you talk to me like I never... Like Lotor never..."

Hunk looked up, his hand coming up reflexively to cover his trembling jaw.

"Can we just talk?" Lance pleaded.

"Talk..." Hunk tasted the word. It appeared to leave a bitterness in his mouth.

"Like we're on the castle."

Hunk nodded. "What—Anything in particular?"

"No," Lance said. He only wanted to talk to someone again. Like he was a person, flesh and blood. An equal. "Not really."

"I don't—"

Hunk massaged his arms. "How about... So... Sam went back to earth. Everything kind of, happened quickly after we recovered him. He went back to earth to warn them about the Galra—"

"They won't be a problem," Lance said before he could stop himself.

Hunk saw it. He caught it in a second. Then... He let it go. "To warn them about Zarkon," He enunciated. "The Galra are kind of falling apart, right now? We've been dealing with some warring factions."

Lance scoffed under his breath. Sendak.

Hunk went on. "We saved this planet, Olkarion, from a tech-nature virus. It was... rough. We don't have a red paladin—"

"What?"

"Keith went back. To the Blades? You saw him at—at the Kral Zera... but that was before Sam left."

"I thought... Lotor has Blue Paladin armor, I mean, the Red Bayard... So I thought he was wearing his suit because..." Lance clutched his head. God, he hadn't had to think in a while. Lance lowered his voice to a whisper when he felt Hunk's hand on his shoulder. "Well, he has his own armor so, I should've thought."

"It's alright."

"But... What about Voltron?" Lance asked.

"What about Voltron?" Hunk repeated with a soft sort of sternness. "We don't have the Red Lion."

Lance looked up slowly. "The Red Lion? No... No, Lotor took the Green Lion. Pidge took it back. I know that—Lotor was so pissed."

"Right, right," Hunk said, rubbing Lance's back. He spoke slowly. "But then he took Keith captive. He captured him in the Red Lion. Remember? When you—Lotor let Keith go, it was in a Galra cargo ship."

"Oh, god. Oh! Right! I—I knew that... I knew..."

Hunk squeezed his shoulders. "Yeah, it's okay. Want to hear what happened next?"

"No..." Lance grunted. "Yes, please. Just—I don't know!"

"I can talk slowly."

"No!" Lance whined. "Don't—I want it to be the same!"

"Okay, okay," Hunk soothed. "Allura learned Magic. We recalled her memories with those fancy memory pods?" Everything Hunk said ended in a question. Like he was probing Lance's brain for a response. Lance kept nodding. Every time he did, Hunk continued. "We found a white hole. Like a black hole. Sucking in matter and time? Only a white hole blew it out. So much energy and only Allura could go in."

"L—Lotor went there."

Hunk hummed. "That's where the memories came from. Lotor kidnapped Allura..." Hunk checked Lance to see if he could go on. "Her Altean powers led her to a map that he used to get there. You told us about Honerva?"

Lance nodded. "An Altean Alchemist."

"Right, Alchemy." Hunk pulled Lance in. Lance folded his gangly body into Hunk's side, resting his head on his shoulder. Hunk continued. "We saved a small outpost from solar storms. Uhh, solar flares? Kinda? We—Oh!"

Lance jumped, his head jerking. His jaw hit Hunk's shoulder in the exact wrong place. But it was Hunk's outburst that frightened him.

Hunk waited before continuing. "We played Dungeons and Dragons."

Lance sat forward suddenly. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Hunk whispered excitedly. His left jaw shinned with a bruise. A thumb-shaped bruise. Identical to Lance's... only darker. "Only, it was called Monsters & Mana..."

Hunk's face clouded over. A sudden, paralyzing realization that froze him on the spot. Slowly, very slowly, his hand raised to cup his jaw. "Lance..."

"Where did you get that?"

"Lance, listen—"

"How do you have a bruise like that? Who gave it to you?"

"—please—"

"Did Lotor come in here?"

Hunk halted.

"Did you speak to him?"

Hunk was shaking slightly, caught in a trap. Why couldn't he just tell Lance? Why wouldn't he?

Because Lance already knew the answer. He knew why.

"Lotor visited me," Hunk said calmly. "He pried my mouth open. I thought he would do it but he didn't. He couldn't, Lance."

"He couldn't," Lance echoed.

"No," Hunk told him. "He came in here to do it. He was talking really slow in this deep voice. He was mocking me. He said some stuff about you. He asked if I wanted to know what it felt like—if I could even imagine it." Hunk leaned forward. "He couldn't do it. He couldn't even undo his pants. He just let go and..."

Lance looked over, watching Hunk grab the bottom of his shirt. Hunk lifted it slowly, revealing his purple stomach and ribs.

"I need to... go," Lance said. "I have to talk to Lotor."

Hunk dropped his shirt. "No! You can't."

"I can't?" Lance snarled. "Excuse me? I can't talk to him? To my own husband?"

"Lance... God, no. He's not your—" Hunk choked. "You can't see it. You can't see him the way we do."

Lance scoffed. He stood quickly, his vision blackening as he spun his head so fast. "You think you know him better than me? You think you could possibly...?"

Lance clenched his fists. He closed his eyes, tightened his abs, and held his breath until the world stopped spinning.

Hunk wiped the tears away from his cheeks. "Yes. I can see what he's done to you. You—If this is new to you, you can't anger him."

"I can't anger him?" Lance opened his eyes. "Hate to break it to ya big guy: Couples fight."

"They don't beat each other!"

Lance laughed maniacally. He pointed at his face. "he didn't hit me. He didn't beat me. He held my mouth open while I blew him and I liked it."

Hunk flinched, making a nauseous sound and gagging.

"Yeah. He—"

Lance took a long, unsteady breath to feed his lungs. When he first got a bruise like this from Lotor, he loved it. Lotor gave it to him so the Paladins would know who he belonged to. Lance loved every second he caught them staring at it. This time he despised it. Lotor forced it on him. He charged into the room angry and forced him to his knees and took what he wanted.

Did it happen before? Did Lotor do this to him after he hurt Hunk?

"It'll be okay Hunk. I'm sorry I said that." Lance tapped on the door's monitor, signaling he wanted to exit. "It'll be okay."

An audible click signaled that the doors unlocked. They cracked open, light streaming through the crease. Lance flinched as his eyes readapted to the light. His shadow covered Hunk's face, making it hard to make out his expression.

Just as the doors opened, Hunk dove forward. He caught Lance by the wrist—just like Keith had... Just like everyone did.

"Lance—"

The guard's jumped on him. They manhandled him to the floor, bringing out the restraints.

"Don't," Lance ordered calmly. "Just leave him in there. Nothing more."

They obeyed.

* * *

Lance marched right to Lotor. He knew where he was. He was with the Sincline ships, obsessively checking them to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before he, you know, killed his father and sent his mother into hiding.

Lance charged in without a second thought. Lotor looked over his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes were scrunched, trying to make out the figure who just arrived.

Once he saw it was Lance, he followed without a word.

* * *

"I saw Hunk." Lance pushed passed Lotor as the guards shut the doors, locking them together in complete privacy.

"You..." Lotor dropped his jaw, angling it slightly in mock shock and sympathy. But Lance knew he was furious. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Lance spat, "He said you couldn't do it. That you couldn't touch him."

Lotor stepped forward, his body leaning in slowly. He towered over Lance subtly, but Lance caught his intention this time. He wasn't going to back down or submit.

Lance planted his feet apart and folded his arms. "Well?"

Lotor leaned away, his eyes flickering until he settled on a new strategy. "Well? Well, I wouldn't want to if my Husband just did his job."

"Your—My job?" Lance laughed.

"You offered your Consent. From the moment you sealed your soul to mine, it was supposed to be different," Lotor stressed. "But it wasn't. You kept fighting back. You kept creeping your way up the ladder, trying to take something from me that wasn't yours to take."

Lance shivered. "You said—You said you wanted to be different. That you were ignoring Galra tradition."

"Not—" Lotor growled. "Don't twist my words around."

"I'm not! You're the one who said them—Ahh!"

Lotor's hand snapped out, clutching Lance's wrist until his hand tingled. "Don't tell me what I have or haven't said. My word is law. I am your emperor."

"You—you are my husband!" Lance groaned. He jerked his arm, but Lotor didn't give. He kept Lance in that stance, his yellow-purple eyes creeping closer to him. Lance was trapped. "... Please."

That was the sign of submission Lotor needed. It awakened the brutal part of his mind. The part that beat him and punished him. The one that told Lance he needed to have the strength to endure physical punishment so that Lotor would never have to feel guilty.

Lance leaned away. He was unable to free his hand from Lotor's grasp, so he tried to get as far away as possible. Somehow, that made sense. If Lance could just escape, Lotor would let him go.

Lotor's grip tightened. His jaw quivered as he glared at Lance. The vein in his head was building, a blinding rage covering his mind with an iron curtain.

"You—No!" Lance grunted. "I can be your husband. I can do my job..."

Lotor didn't respond.

"God! If you'd just—" Lance snapped. His head reeling back so far out of his control. The part of his brain that Lotor condition to never tell lies, keep secrets, or think forbidden thoughts was taking control of him. It didn't matter if it wasn't safe for him. Lotor told him not to keep secrets. Lotor could sense lies. "Well if you didn't take me in my sleep we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Take you..." Lotor hissed. "I woke you up? When?"

Lance sobbed. "Never—You didn't. I've been feeling it. You think I can't tell when I wake up. That I can't feel that my hole has been resized?"

"That—That was nearly a year ago!" Lotor screamed.

Lance yelped. He was... Lance was just using slang. He knew that Lotor was raping him in his sleep. He could feel how much his ass was stretched in the morning. That's what he was talking about. Not...

Coran mentioned something about surgery being necessary.

"It was after you almost killed me, right?" Lance cried. "In the prison cells. When you put me in the hospital? You fixed me up for you?"

Lotor closed his eyes, squeezing Lance's wrist so hard he felt it screaming under the strain. Lance's legs went limp, bending under him as he gasped in pain.

"Well?!"

Lotor yanked. Lance blacked out. His body tumbled into Lotor's arms—where he'd been pulled—and he started to come to moments later. His wrist no longer hurt, his nerves overloaded. His brain possibly falling into shock. Lance found his other wrist in an equally threatening grasp, Lotor holding him close to his chest—forcing Lance to look him in the eyes.

As stupid as it was, Lance said it. "You can't sense lies."

Lotor's eyes sharpened. His desperation and panic toward getting caught by Lance in so many lies fled from his mind as Lance challenged him.

"You just said that to make me fear you," Lance's voice quivered, realizing he was right.

"I'll show you fear."

Lotor released his hold on Lance's numb wrist, dragging him effortlessly behind him by his good arm. Lance tripped and skidded across the ground, attempting to slow Lotor in any way possible.

He didn't even think about attacking him.

"No!" Lance wailed as he saw their destination: the two doors hidden behind the curtains—the ones always locked. Lotor told him where those doors went. That was where he strung Lance up for hours on end, torturing him for information he didn't have—saying that if Lance lied he'd know. "No, you promised!"

Lotor grunted, dragging him faster.

"You said you'd never—you told me I wouldn't have to!" Lance babbled. "Please, don't. Lotor—my Prince!"

In a desperate attempt to save himself, Lance jumped forward. he put himself between Lotor and the doors, hoping to block him from opening them. Maybe hoping to plead with him. Lance wasn't sure, he only knew that lagging behind wasn't working.

"You can't!"

Lotor stared him down, their foreheads almost touching. "I. Own. You!"

Lance sobbed, shying away from Lotor for a moment. His body hid, curling into the doors before he lurched forward. He brought his free hand up, trying to stroke Lotor's face.

"What happens to you is my decision. Not yours. You do not get to tell me how to discipline my own husband.

"But—You promised! Never again..."

"You gave your consent." Lotor didn't give Lance's words a second of consideration. "We're both breaking promised now."

Lance pulled his hand away from Lotor's face. He reeled it back, then pushed forward. An excruciating pain returned to his numb wrist as he made contact with Lotor's neck. The room spun around him until the ceiling was directly in his eye-line. Lotor had flipped him to the ground.

Lance coughed from landing on his back, feeling Lotor jerk him harshly to the bed.

"L—Lotor?" Lance hesitated.

Lotor wasn't taking him into the room. He flipped Lance one more time, forcing his hand to wrap around either end of the bedpost.

"Thank you," Lance whispered. "Lotor? Thank you. I'll do it. I'll take it. Please, don't—thank you."

Lotor tied his hand together, securing Lance to the metal before vanishing behind him. The heavy doors opened, the sound of them booming first haunting his memories and now his ears. Lance felt him return over his left shoulder. He glanced back to see a whip in Lotor's hand.

"No, wait—" Lance squawked as Lotor forced his shirt up and over his head. The shirt was tangled around his upper arms, close enough for Lance to bite down on the fabric, just in case.

Lance begged Lotor. He shamelessly pleaded for mercy. Lotor words from a year ago repeated over and over in his head. He was tired of Lance begging for a reprieve. Lance needed to accept the consequences of his actions.

He didn't care. He cried and screamed and begged. He called Lotor by his name. He called him a prince. An emperor. Lance called him his love. He called him a bastard. A kidnapper. A lover.

How could one person be all those things?

Lance collapsed against the bedpost, sobbing and wailing into his arms; into his shirt. Lotor would never listen to him and he was so tired...

Lotor knelt by him. The whip dropped to the floor. Up close, Lance could see the thin purple and gold wire embedded with intricate shards and spikes.

Lotor was going to do it anyway. He had to show Lance what he was capable of.

Lotor leaned his head against Lance's back. equally exhausted.

Lance shivered. His voice came out quiet and weak. "Let me go."

Lotor sniffed, his hand wrapping around Lance's midsection to hug him tight. He buried his face in Lance's skin, inhaling his scent.

Then, with more conviction, "Let me go."

Lotor's voice was as wrecked and unstable as Lance's. "I'm scared, Lance."

"So set me free," Lance said, the true meaning of what he was asking for scaring him more than Lotor did. "Let me leave here, now. End all of this."

Lotor's hands unraveled, touching Lance's sides once more before hiding behind his back. Lance saw them again, steady and confident as they unwrapped his bonds. "Go."

Lance paused. "... Really?"

"Get out of here while you can," Lotor mumbled. "Just go home. End this now."

Lance retracted into a small ball, hiding from Lotor but not moving. Then Lotor's words hit him. Hard.

He crawled out with little coordination, scurrying away from Lotor as fast as he could. He stood in the center of the room, backing away with Lotor in his line of sight.

Lotor rose slowly, his expression distraught. "Lance."

Lance shook his head. Please, don't make him come back.

Lotor sighed. He said once more, "Lance..."

Lotor walked forward slowly, setting off a battalion of fireworks in Lance's stomach. Lotor grabbed his arms, holding his wrist bracelets in his hands—no longer admiring the metal. "You know I love you?"

Lance drew away slightly, ignoring the heartbroken expression on Lotor's face. Lotor took the bands off. Lance didn't see how, but his shackles were gone.

Lance surged forward, wrapping his arms around Lotor's neck and kissing him. They fell together so quickly their teeth clacked together. Lotor kissed him back, keeping their mouths open but not invading his mouth. Lance groaned, terrified and frantic and confused.

Lotor broke away suddenly, crying. "Go now. Now."

Lance almost tripped, backing out with Lotor in his sight again. His arm reached out. His hand hit the door. Lance turned, opening it.

"I love you," Lotor repeated.

Lance sprinted into the hall. Running faster than he had in a while. His body raced against the clock. The Red Lion roared in his ears, purring softly for comfort and direction. He had to get Hunk, get the Red and Black Bayards, get his blue Paladin armor, board the Red Lion... And fly away before Lotor changed his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story in the middle, with Lance and Lotor already entangled, but I'm definately going to edot chapters 1-4 to show that slow burn. In my head, I jad this idea kf how Lotor krept up on Lance, but I decided not to show it so no one would doubt how awful Lotor was. 
> 
> But it's not like I held back in any of the other chapters. 
> 
> I'll probably get to that around late April 2019. My schedule doesn't open up until then.


End file.
